


careful fear and dead devotion

by asphodelus



Category: Power Rangers (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Priests, Blasphemy, M/M, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-11-19 19:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 64,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11319960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asphodelus/pseuds/asphodelus
Summary: Jason is a priest. Zack goes to his evening Mass service every Saturday.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> listen.  
> i’ve been needing some distractions from politics every now and then so this blasphemous thing sorta happened. you’ll probably never believe me when i say that this was meant to be some, at most, 5k pwp thing.  
> anyway, this is mostly [vicky's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alrespirar/pseuds/alrespirar) fault or all her fault bc she had me watch this movie and made me lose sleep over it ever since. so @ her your grievances, not me.
> 
> fic is complete but this weather is killing me and unless i have the AC blasting in my face, it takes me a while to go through and make sure i don’t have glaring errors, so that’s why i didn’t post it in one whole swoop and also i wanted to be extra and at least post the first chapter today for dvd release so there ya go.
> 
> that being said, all mistakes are mine and title is from the national’s “don’t swallow the cap.”  
> disclaimers: no one is underaged because i don’t have the drive or will to deal with that extra drama. i’m not a practicing catholic so there will be mistakes, i’m sure—not least of all the fact that i made jason and zack catholic just to write this kink shame.

Jason breathes in the cool air, the sound of his footsteps echoing on the tiled floor beneath him. The sun is still bright outside, the weather chilly, from what Jason remembers when he first arrived. The old brick walls and vaulted ceiling are enough for the old creaky heating system to lose the temperature battle and for the room to maintain a level of cold that only diminishes once the churchgoers arrive and the lit candles have begun to pool with wax. 

It has been a little under two months since Jason, newly introduced into the priesthood, found his place in this small town Church after a drive that put his old truck out of business just on the move alone. He grew up in a town similar to this one and while he never would have expected to be doing what he does now (least of all his dad, he thinks with a concealed snort), he’s happy. 

Just last week he was assigned additional times in the early weekday afternoons, but he started his time here with Saturday evening Mass and it’s still Jason’s favorite. He’s gotten to know a number of regulars and they’ve all been welcoming from the start. 

He smoothes out his robe as the first of these regulars file in; a few begin to pull at their tightly wrapped thin scarves while others move to sit down in their usual spots.

Mrs. Nylund and her husband bundle up together in the front, as they always do, followed by Mr. Reid—Sam, he had asked to be called—along with his two children. Jason isn’t going to argue it, but he’s willing to bet that the children would rather spend their Saturdays anywhere but here. But then again, like, Ms. Vega, who has a Sunday morning business to attend to, and a couple others with morning obligations, Saturday evening Mass fulfills the expected Holy Mass otherwise completed on Sundays. 

While Jason may feel compelled to remind everyone that Sundays should be days of rest with families, he’s never been one for telling people how to live their lives. _Apart from urging them to live by God’s favor_ , Jason reminds himself with a smile. 

Evening Mass is also typically a gathering of those who just finished work for the day and want to sleep in the next day—Jason can’t begrudge them that. If anything, he’s grateful they even show up.  
Apart from Mr. Reid’s children, the only other people who Jason would expect are at an age where they would prefer Saturday evenings with friends, are two young women in their early twenties whom Jason spoke to once where they—Amy and Gabriella—explained were not morning people as reasons for their Saturday appearances.  
Jason’s eyes pass over to the next two bodies who walk through the front doors: Mrs. Taylor and her son. 

And there he is reminded of one more person who Jason would be hard pressed to believe doesn’t have a lineup of Saturday evening plans to pick from: Zack.  
Jason was briefly introduced to Zack and his mother during his second week. Mrs. Taylor had bounded up to Jason after Mass, introducing herself in accented English before she had gestured to her son in what he would find out was Mandarin Chinese. Jason had caught his first glimpse of that crooked grin when Zack shook his hand and told Jason that both he and his mother enjoyed his Mass and would be looking forward every Saturday for the next ones. 

Jason hasn’t spoken to Zack since; at least, not directly. Mrs. Taylor has come up to him twice more, using Zack as a means of translation of the words she has trouble saying herself, “She understands a hell of a lot more than she speaks,” Zack had once said, as explanation before he had been swatted on the arm by his mother in a chastise which Zack followed up by word of apology and a smile “forgive me, I meant to say ‘heck of a lot’.” 

Jason isn’t sure, but it’s likely that Zack’s reasons for coming every Saturday evening has to do with his mother. They seem to have a close relationship, which Jason admires, but lately, there’s been something unsettling about the way Zack’s eyes never leave Jason’s face during Mass. There is no malice in those eyes—Jason can’t quite allow himself to describe just how opposite of an emotion he’s seen in them, even in the privacy of his own thoughts. 

The sound of a door closing pulls Jason from those thoughts and he discretely looks down at the watch he wears high on his wrist. Just shy of 5:29 PM. He makes his way to the lectern, pulling the silk ribboned bookmark from its place on the open Old Testament and smiles warmly at everyone seated before he begins. 

**

6:28 PM

The room feels several degrees warmer despite the later hour now. Two older people are sitting in different pews, their heads bowed, as Jason makes his way to the booth against the wall.  
For two hours at a time, Jason sits in the confessional booth at the same time on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays and waits silently for someone to enter. There are times when no one does. Typically, people do not feel compelled to confess more than two or three times a year—if at all. Most don’t believe they do anything sinful enough to call for confession even on a monthly basis. And in a town like this one, that means Jason is mostly greeted with two hours of time alone to his thoughts.

Several minutes pass in silence. Jason had heard the sound of the church door open and close once within that time but he didn’t know if it was someone coming in or leaving. 

But then a rustling beside him has Jason carefully sliding the cover of the grate beside his face open before he places his hands on his lap. “When you are ready,” he says lightly.

He hears the person’s mouth open before they speak and Jason is surprised to find the voice closer than he expects it, but steadily keeps his face downturned and facing away. 

“Should I… that is, am I suppose to say the whole ‘Forgive me Father’ thing?” 

The voice—male—sounds familiar but Jason can’t place it and he shouldn’t try, “It’s not required” he says instead.

His eyebrows furrow at the tell-tale sound of the other person licking their lips and… _they must be pressed against the grate_ , Jason thinks to himself.

“Okay,” An intake of breath “Forgive me Father for I have sinned… my last confession was, well, I’ve never done this if you didn’t already figure that out from my earlier question.”

Jason stays quiet.

“I uh… well to start off, a few times I talked back to my mom, stolen candy from a store, I skipped school a lot in high school, drank things other than holy wine, used my fair share of curse words, you know, the works,”

Jason holds back a smile, ready to ask about trust in his faith before he is interrupted  
“But there’s… well, there’s one thing that’s bigger than all of that. And see, the thing is, Father, that it’s been consuming a big part of my life at the moment”

Jason’s shoulder’s straighten and his fingers clasp together, “go on,” he says by way of encouragement.

A swallow. 

“I find myself with urges… in the primal sense. For someone I could get into a whole heap of trouble over.”

Jason pauses. It’s not that he’s shying away from the confession, but something is still prickling at the back of his neck in trying to place that voice. He pulls back from it, “My son, these thoughts can be managed. You are not the first nor would you be the last to—“

“But Father,” the voice interrupts and this time Jason does jump when he hears a hand carefully being placed against the grate.“You don’t understand. When I see them, I just… I can’t help wanting to touch them even if… it would be taboo.”

Several breaths pass. Jason feels—well, he’s not sure how he feels but something about this has him uncomfortable. The term taboo leaving a lingering tightness in his throat “These… ,” he begins, feebly attempting to square his shoulders “…urges you feel are not foreign to God’s children. Many crave touch for various reasons that may be misinterpreted.”

Jason’s ears prickle at the huffed laugh he hears. “No Father, I’m not misinterpreting what type of touch I crave… My urge is to know how it feels to drown in their skin.” Another pause and the next words come out in a type of whisper, “I— I want to hear the passion they have when they speak to an audience, within the privacy of a bedroom with only myself as their congregation on my knees.”

Unnerved, Jason feels his heart accelerating slightly. This. This feels like something he shouldn’t be hearing. Like a confession and declaration rolled into one and Jason doesn’t know why, but he feels as if he should stop this. Now. He finally turns to the grate, hears an intake of breath that he tries not to mimic, “This sin—this urge you feel… Our lord tests us during every step in our path of life. We must all learn to resist our urges on these impure thoughts. Lust—“

“Yes” the word is drawn out, “lust is what I feel, Father. A type of lust that consumes me whenever I am near them.”

Jason turns away again, feels his pulse can be heard in the small space around himself, “Lust can be controlled, my son. If not physically, then mentally. Temperance is a heavenly virtue His children can use in order to make peace with opposing desires,” Jason continues on at the slightest movement beside him, where he feels exposed even though he knows only minimal outlines can be made out in the booth through the grate from either side “I ask you, my son, to practice temperance so that you may grow stronger than than those dark desires. I— I can provide you with penance for your sins in hopes that it may help you. Will you, would you like to say a prayer of contrition?”  
This feels unorthodox. He would be chastised for forcing a close to the confession, but at this moment, it feels like something he must do. He must keep this person from saying more than they already have.

Several seconds pass in silence and Jason feels a cold sweat on the back of his neck, “my son?”

“What penance would you suggest, Father?”

“I ask that you pray one Hail Mary for each sin you have confessed here today. Your battle and test of strength will be enough for you to show God that you wish to serve in His image.”

Another silent beat and then, “Thank you, Father. I hope to exercise my faith under your guidance. Yes, I would make an Act of Contrition.”  
There is something about how the words are said that has Jason questioning the sincerity. It’s as if the other person is more resigned to Jason’s refusal to listen to the confession rather than taking heed of the gravity of the sin. And so Jason finds himself only half listening to the scripted words he’s learned by heart when it’s spoken through the grate,  
“My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against You, whom I should love above all things. I—“ a tired sigh, “I firmly intend, with the help of Your grace, to sin no more and to avoid whatever leads me to sin. Our Savior, Jesus Christ, suffered and died for us. In His name, O Lord, have mercy.”

Through reflex, Jason responds with his prayer of absolution: “God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of His Son, has reconciled the world to Himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. Through the ministry of the Church, may God give you pardon and peace. I absolve you from your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

“Amen” he hears. 

“God has forgiven your sins. Go in peace” Jason replies, finding himself tilting his head back against the wall of the booth.

“Thanks be to God” comes from a slightly longer distance from the grate, for which Jason feels ridiculously grateful for. He waits to hear and see the light shine in from the open door beside him but all he hears is quiet breathing in the darkness. He wonders if the penitent requires Jason to let him know he can step out now but the voice speaks out again, “One last question, if I may, Father?”

Jason once again feels as if he is stepping into a dangerous path before he resigns himself to answer, “Of course.”

The voice moves close to the grate, “Is it true that for a man of the cloth—as yourself, specifically let’s say—the promise of celibacy is technically a matter of tradition and Church law rather than forbidden?”

He’s not sure whether it’s bile or saliva that feels lodged in his throat, but Jason is unable to answer because somehow he knows now who he’s been speaking to. And suddenly all he can imagine are those eyes that stared at him just a little over an hour earlier as they have been for the past few weeks. 

“Father?”

Jason can’t move. His palms feel damp against his lap and he prays for strength as he pinches his eyes shut and allows himself to focus on the pressure behind his head to ground him, “Is there a reason for this question?” Jason isn’t sure if it came out as harsh as he felt it did but he can’t hear over the pounding in his ears.

If it was, Zack—and God help him, Jason knows that’s who this is—doesn’t comment on it or seem bothered by it when he hums in thought, “Curiosity. Is that another sin?”

Jason shakes his head and then remembers—hopes—that Zack can’t see him, “No. Not when placed with officiating under service to God and a faith to do good.”

“Is that the answer to both questions or just this one?”

“From a theological perspective, priests serve to emulate Christ and He never—but it is not unheard of for priests to marry. It is not a Church doctrine, no.” Jason turns his face away, opposite the grate, searching for a tether in the darkness that meets him.

“That’s not really a yes or no answer.” Zack points out

“It is the best I can do,” Jason responds and then closes his eyes again, “If you come back tomorrow, you may find your question more suitably answered by Father Schiff. I’m not—he may be better fit to give you the answers your seek. Not me.” 

Zack hums again, “I think I can satisfy myself with your answer,” Jason shudders slightly for a reason he won’t think on. “Thank you, Father. I believe I have some prayers to attend to.”

Jason doesn’t answer and a second later his eyes open and he catches a line of light shadowing the grate’s pattern against the booth’s wall as the door opens and then closes.  
He stays there until he hears the Church door open and then close before his body sags and he presses the heels of his hands against his eyes with a strained sigh. 

His eyes have adjusted enough to where he can see the face of his watch. He has just under an hour and a half left to wait until he can leave and he’s never been so nervous to be alone with his thoughts as he sends what may be a selfish prayer to have someone else come in with hopes of absolution for one of their sins. 

**

The next few days pass by without incident for Jason. By Thursday afternoon service, he welcomes a couple who are hoping to discuss marriage preparation. Jason is both touched that he is chosen by the couple over Father Schiff who has served this Church for a much longer time, but he cannot deny that he isn’t also a little bit nervous for it. 

The couple, in their mid-thirties, seem like a lovely pair and Jason tells them as much. The husband-to-be, Frank, tells Jason that he is a baptized non-Catholic but is willing to make the declaration and promise for a dispensation to be granted so they can marry under the Church.  
The wife-to-be, Karen, also specifies, with hesitant but determined air, that they hope to hyphenate their surnames post-marriage, to which Jason smiles, assuring the couple that the traditional taking of a husband’s last name is not addressed in the Bible; rather it is a cultural custom so that decision is of no consequence. He pauses for a second before he leans forward slightly, “But if I may say, it would do society well to change this tradition to accept both surnames in order to encompass full marital union, in my opinion” 

Both couples smile at him and turn to one another. They seem to be communicating something between themselves. A nod and an answering nod have them turning back to Jason, their hands coming together to clasp between them. “There’s something else we wanted to disclose to you before we can safely move on.”

Jason relaxes his posture as much as he can to make them feel comfortable, “Of course, please,” he says, gesturing for them to continue.

“We…well, we have a… what might be called a cohabiting relationship. In all senses of the word.”

“Ah,” Jason says, the prickling feeling he had on Saturday when Zack asked him about celibacy, returning now as his thoughts take him back to the dark booth, the almost warmer air that had felt so constrictive. 

“We’re sorry, Father. If you don’t feel comfortable continuing we can make arrangements elsewhere...”

Jason blinks away his thoughts, finds the couple staring at him with a look of dismay, “hmm?” he asks before their comment catches up to him, “Oh! No, please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think—Really, I’m sorry. Thank you for telling me but that doesn’t change my willingness to accompany you through your marriage.” 

The couple seem reluctant to relax but they smile at Jason and he mentally berates himself the slip. “Naturally, I hope you will also understand that I cannot ignore this aspect of your relationship. You know well enough where the Church stands on this issue—regardless of how common it may be these days. However, just because I cannot ignore it, under God’s judgement, it also doesn’t mean anything will change… apart from my addressing certain… ah, aspects of the preparation for the Sacrament of Marriage, but I ask you both to focus on your understandings of the meaning of sacrament and the commitment to marriage” Jason smiles again, shakes his head, “at your own disclosure, of course.”  
He clears his throat, “Also, it would be amiss for me to not suggest or even encourage separating or living chastely until the vows take place if only to provide you each with an altered perspective on your relationship and allowing yourselves to make an unfiltered decision on your marriage”

Frank sits forward, “Yeah, uh, actually we talked about this… the well, living apart thing. We have been thinking of getting a new place seeing as I moved into Karen’s and we want to start a whole new life together after the marriage. So we’re both sorta going to be staying with family while we look for a place. Guess it kinda works out, huh Padre?” 

Jason chuckles, “well, it’s certainly something.”

From there, the couple and Jason finalize a few last points and they agree on a date for their next meeting. 

After they’ve left with a warm handshake to each, Jason looks at the time and notes that it’s time for him to take his place in the confessional booth. 

He hasn’t thought about Zack during the past week, which he was grateful for, but now as he sits in the dark space, his mind wanders back to him and flushes when he thinks about why he was reminded of him today. 

Jason spent about four years in seminary before he was ordained just shy of age requirement. Another almost four years before that he received his theology degree. In all those years, Jason can’t say he was ever bothered or thought about a need for intimacy. This isn’t to say that Jason didn’t understand attraction—he did and does, but his choice in joining the priesthood always appealed him more. He knows that things aren’t as strict as some may believe for those in his profession. He wasn’t lying when he told Zack that marriage wasn’t unheard of for a priest. 

But the practice of celibacy. That was an act of trust and faith to God.

The thing is, what Zack was asking—what he… what Jason felt like he was insinuating wasn’t an act between a man and woman. Jason is proud to say that Father Schiff has not been silent on the fact that he welcomes all of God’s children regardless of their orientation. The concept of sexual orientation has always been an open one, to Jason. One cannot deny another human who they choose to love. So no, the issue isn’t with the sex or gender between consenting parties. The issue was who Zack desired.  
Jason feels temporarily lightheaded with the thought. He hasn’t allowed himself to truly consider it and he can argue to himself that he doesn’t have proof of it, but—He closes his eyes, places his head back against the wall behind him to ground himself again. He thinks of those eyes that follow him every Saturday evening. Thinks of the sharp intake of breath when he had turned his face to the grate. That is where the danger lies, Jason thinks as he places his fingers over the upturned wrist of his other hand; it lies in the way his pulse quickens at the unrealized covet. 

His thoughts are once again dissolved when he hears a shuffling beside him. Jason brushes his hands down his robe unnecessarily before sliding the grate, silently thanking God when what greets him is the voice of a woman. 

** 

When Saturday rolls around, Jason feels a thrumming under his skin as he arrives at Church earlier than usual. He splashes water on his face inside and looks himself in the mirror for several seconds, letting the water cascade down his face before he sighs and dries his hands. 

After pulling on his robe, he smoothes down his hair, secures the band on his wristwatch concealed at the sleeve, and sits in wait. 

**

5:00 PM. 

Jason stands from his seat. He had been praying, he realizes. He feels more at peace for it. 

The nave is empty still as Jason walks to the altar table, making his routine check of the lit candles. When he was younger and his parents brought him to church, he would like dipping his fingers in the wax sometimes. Just enough to coat the tip of his index or ring finger so as to only feel the slightest bit of heat. He would carry the coated and dried wax on his finger through the car ride home. In his room he would pop the mold off, stare at the indentation of his fingernail and whorl patterns from the print of his finger and then discard it when his parents called him down to eat. 

He feels a little like that now. Like every passing thought of Zack is him merely dipping close to the heat to examine but not enough to do more than that. 

Walking over to the small alcove where a statue of the Virgin Mary sits, Jason gets that childish urge to dip his finger in the large, glassed candle at her feet but instead, he rearranges the small bed of roses. 

5:10 PM and people have begun to file in. Mrs. Nylund and her husband, Sam and his children. One by one, until Jason steels himself to look towards the stained glass windows from what he can see of the transept. He feels it like a prickle on his skin when Mrs. Taylor and Zack walk in. He knows it’s because Zack is looking towards him.

After the doors have closed, Jason’s eyes have unwittingly sought Zack’s out and his heart pounds when he notices that yes, those eyes are already on his. Jason is sure something must show on his face because Zack’s eyes sharpen in fascination. Jason is left wondering whether Zack knows that he’s figured out he was the one in the confessional a week ago. 

A sneeze from the front pew tears Jason’s eyes away, and he joins in with the murmured “bless you’s” that come from the others before he moves to the lecturn and places his hand on the Testament, almost beseeching support from the thin paper. 

Jason loses track of how many times his eyes have to dance away from Zack’s. While he’s thankful that he keeps a steady voice and dictation throughout, he can tell from the broadening smirk on Zack’s face that the rest of him is not quite as unfaltering. 

By the end, the offerings of Eucharist are placed on the altar and Jason begins the prayer. 

Jason knew to expect to see Zack stepping in line behind his mother for Communion. Why wouldn’t he? He undertook confession and while Jason could argue that Zack seems unrepentant in that regard, he does not feel at place to deny him the rite, all things considered. 

One by one, Jason repeats the proverb with anticipation. 

Mrs. Taylor stands before him, resting her stacked hands in front of her, palm up to receive the offering. Instinctively, Jason licks his lips after she walks away and he looks up, catching Zack’s eye “The body of Christ,” Jason says.

“Amen,” Zack replies before he kneels and opens his mouth, his tongue peeking out even as his eyes smile for him. 

Jason hopes his hand doesn’t shake as he lowers the Holy Eucharist on Zack’s tongue and he pretends he didn’t feel the heat of his mouth before he pulls his hand away. 

After the Communion Rite is ended with its prayer, Jason moves to the Church entrance to provide statements of farewell as he regularly tries to do.  
Mr. and Mrs. Nylund have Jason caught up on a story about the videos they received from their grandchildren and how in the videos, they used something called ‘filters’ that had animated bunny ears appearing over their heads as “the darndest thing.” Jason laughs with them and then bids them goodbye and a thanks when he’s given a Tupperware container from Mr. Nylund as he explains that he was proud to have made lasagna for the first time in his life and wanted to share it. As they walk away, Mrs. Nylund tells Jason that had she known her husband could be such a wonderful cook, she would’ve married him the first time he asked instead of the second. 

When Jason turns back after laughing, he’s met with Mrs. Taylor’s smiling face and Zack’s smirking one just beside her’s. 

“Mrs. Taylor,” Jason greets, “Zack” he adds with a nod. 

“Father Scott, thank you for another wonderful Mass” Mrs. Taylor says, taking Jason’s hand between hers in a warm shake, “I tell Zack I always in peace after hearing you and I see Zack, he more,” she pauses, turns to Zack and says something in Mandarin Chinese and turns expectantly back to Jason.  
“She means to say that I’m more…hmm” the hum sends a wave of memory through Jason but he stands patiently, “enthralled or interested since you’ve taken over Saturday evening Mass.” 

“Ah,” Jason replies, avoiding the sparkle in Zack’s eyes and instead smiles and nods at Mrs. Taylor, “I’m glad and grateful that you share your time here.”

She nods back, satisfied and then, “You should come have dinner one day. I will make big meal. Me and Zack.”

“What a wonderful idea” Zack adds.

Jason just continues to smile at Mrs. Taylor “Thank you for the offer, Mrs. Taylor, but I wouldn’t want to impose on you and I do actually have an obligation to stay here at the Church for a few hours more—“

“Oh, you wouldn’t impose,” Zack interrupts, “We would both love to have you over and surely you have at least one night off.”

“Well.” Jason concludes, forcing himself to regard Zack fully and feels a tightness in his gut for it. “I’ll get back to you both on that, how about that?”

“Yes, yes,” Mrs. Taylor says, blissfully and innocently unaware of the strain Jason feels standing in front of and looking at Zack who has casually rested his hand on his mother’s shoulder. 

With another nod, Jason’s eyes catch another person standing a ways behind Zack and his mother, patiently waiting to speak to Jason.  
“Ah, I hope you don’t mind” he says, gesturing to the older woman behind them.

“Oh! no, no, please. Thank you again, Father Scott. We will see you next Saturday or you let Zack know when you like to come to dinner, yes? We will make big meal.”

“Of course.” Jason says, smiling warmly and then biting his tongue when Zack holds his hand out to shake, “Yes, please do let me know.”

Jason’s hand feels aflame at the squeeze he receives when he holds his own hand out and tries to neutralize his expression when he feels Zack’s thumb swipe back and forth, briefly against his, although Zack keeps his eyes steady before they both walk away.

Jason hopes the heat he feels on his cheeks isn’t visible above the surface, but he doesn’t hold his breath on that hope if Zack’s smirk had been any indication.


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks pass. Construction on a nearby highway cleared up recently and it’s been meaning more business for the area and providing more access for others, which means there’s been a bit of an increase in churchgoers. Additionally, this has opened up an opportunity for Jason to make regular visits to another nearby hospital to visit and pray over the sick, making it easier to split with trips with Father Schiff. 

Today, he has a baptism to perform. He hadn’t expected to be asked to perform one since most baptisms are typically performed on the first Sundays when he is not the presiding priest, but the Munroe family, regulars of his evening Mass, graciously asked it of him and they set it up with notice to Father Schiff. 

The family has chosen to have a public picnic in the adjoining gardens of the Church with family and friends and Jason offered to help them set everything up. 

He has all the preparations up by the time the family comes in, godparents in tow with the baby dressed in her baptism outfit. 

**

After the ceremony is over and Jason changes into a simple black clerical shirt, he accompanies the family out to the gardens where he finds that some other family and friends—a few of them that Jason recognizes from his evening Mass, have already arrived and began setting out the food. 

He has taken to helping plate food when he sees Mrs. Taylor and Zack making their way to the gardens. Zack is holding a gift bag that he hands to Mrs. Munroe with a welcoming hug while Jason greets Mrs. Taylor after she dotes on the baby in her stroller and she excuses herself to pull someone in a conversation. 

Jason then watches as Zack hunches down to where the newly baptized baby is waving her small fist in the air to the side of Jason. 

“Hello, Father Scott,” Zack says without looking up from the baby. 

“Zack,” he greets back.

“I’ve never seen you wearing anything besides that uh, cape thing.”

“Chasuble,” Jason corrects, smiling despite himself.

“Yeah,” Zack replies, finally looking up while the baby is distracted by his finger, which she has latched onto. He looks Jason up and down, casually, and Jason almost wants to cover himself, as ridiculous as that may seem seeing as he’s still very much fully clothed. 

Zack’s eyes linger on the collar tab against Jason’s throat and quickly glances up to catch his eyes when Jason swallows, before looking back down at the baby. He makes a look of surprise to the baby when she raises his clasped finger with both her hands for him to inspect.  
“It’s a good look.” Zack says.

Jason doesn’t know what to say to that so he instead nods to the baby, “friend of yours?”

Zack laughs, wiping a bit of dribble from her chin with her baby cloth “Yeah, I’ve known little Lita here all her life. The Munroes live across from us. Yours truly will be on babysitting duty before you know it.” 

Jason smiles and Zack finally stands, leaving Lita to play with the small ribbons of her dress. 

Things hadn’t changed since the day Jason and Zack last spoke. Zack still seems more interested in watching Jason when he speaks during Mass than he does on the teachings spoken during them. And Jason. Well, he still prays every day, but has found his prayers directed towards inner peace more than strictly usual. 

Looking at Zack up close like this now, he wonders if he shouldn’t be asking for strength, instead. Or in addition to. He feels like he’s being scrutinized again and then when Zack looks ready to say something, his mother’s voice calls out to him in her native dialect, gesturing briefly to Jason with a smile.  
Zack replies with something like assent and turns to Jason expectantly, “Mom asked me to bring the cooler from the car. And she asks if you’ll help me. Says you look like you have strong enough arms for the job.”

Jason feels his blush creep up his neck, and then feels it travel further when Zack, in a voice a little lower than normal and with eyes directed at Jason’s biceps says, “I agree with her on that, by the way.” 

Zack turns then and leads the way to the car he and his mother came in on. It’s parked beside the large lacebark elm tree where someone carved a heart onto its chipping bark, making the shaded area around the car feel slightly colder than its surroundings. 

With a press to the car remote, the car’s trunk opens, revealing a red cooler and a bagged set of plastic cups to the side of it. 

Without hesitation Jason begins to roll up his sleeves a few times on one arm and when he begins to do it to the other, he jumps and takes a step away at having felt Zack’s hand grip his upper arm. His eyes dart around them, but they’re alone and they’re covered enough where the others can’t see them unless they take several steps back. 

When he looks back at Zack, he sees his hand still hovering in the air and his face is unreadable, “What are you doing?” he asks. He heart feels like it’s racing even though the touch couldn’t have lasted more than a second.

Zack, for his part, seems unperturbed, “Do you have some type of gym or do you do weights in Church while everyones gone?”

“I—what?”

He flinches when Zack places his hand on Jason’s arm again but Zack seems ready to move with him if he pulls away. He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, but then he licks his lips, “Sometimes when I think about you—“ he stops and locks his eyes with Jason like he’s searching for something, “You know, don’t you?” he says then.

Jason swallows involuntarily and glances to the empty space around them, knowing no one is watching them but still feeling more exposed than he’s ever felt. “What are you—“

Zack takes a step towards him and Jason takes another step towards the car, “Ever since that day when I told you—confessed—things, you had this look in your eye like you’re expecting me to just, I don’t know, strike or something. And I realized that you figured it out. And the thing is…” he steps closer again, his hand still holding onto Jason’s arm—soft enough so Jason could easily pull away, but solid enough that there’s no mistaking the heat that seeps through the fabric that makes Jason so very aware of the touch.  
“Even though you know,” he continues when Jason is one step away from pressing his legs against the car bumper “you don’t look at me with disgust or anger, or even pity…you look at me like you’re afraid.”

Jason is sure he’s trembling now as Zack lifts his other arm and carefully sets his hand around the wrist of Jason’s other hand, his thumb pressingly securely over his trashing pulse, “Why do I scare you?”

Jason can’t say anything. Can’t even move. 

The hand on his arm slowly moves without lifting until it’s dragged over the front of Jason’s chest beside the beating of his heart, “Are you scared of the things I want to do to you?” 

Now Zack steps close enough that Jason can feel the heat of him down his front. The distance between them barely bigger than the space of Zack’s hand between them as he learns forward a little and whispers the next works, “or are you afraid of the things _you_ want to do to _me_ , Father Scott?”

With a shuttered breath, Jason closes his eyes from Zack, “Please.” he says, barely a whisper, and then gasps when he feels Zack’s face pressing closer to whisper back in his ear, “Anything you want. Anything. You could have me here, if you wanted. Christ,” he groans quietly, “you don’t know how much I want you.”

And then. Hearing His name whispered so carelessly in his ear, Jason finds the strength to shake his head. Softly at first, and then more pronounced as he takes that final step behind him for distance and pulls his body away enough to have Zack drop his arms. Only after he’s taken two, three—four breaths, does Jason finally open his eyes again. He almost wants to close them again when he sees the hungry look in Zack’s eyes but he grips the open space behind him, “No.” 

“No?” Zack asks, his face just slightly displaying his confusion and distress.

“No,” Jason says again, his eyes darting everywhere before settling on Zack’s face again, “Zack, I don’t think you realize what you want here. We can’t—There can’t ever be anything here. You… you told me yourself it’s… what you want, it’d be… it’s blasphemous. It’s not right. It’s wrong and you’re being guided by lust and the Lord, He—“

“Stop.” Zack says, frustrated. “Just—I want you, okay?” Jason shudders against his will. “And I don’t feel bad about wanting you. No one can make me feel bad about that. You can say or think what you want but I _felt_ you. You want this, too. How could it be wrong, how could ' _He_ ' find it wrong for two people who want the same thing?”

Jason sighs and his shoulders fall, “Zack,” he says, shaking his head, “you don’t understand. You’re young still and impulsive—“

“Bullshit,” Zack scoffs, ignoring the twitch Jason makes at the curse word, “I’m almost 21. You’re what, 25? 26? and you want to act like you’re some old man, resigned to never giving yourself the chance to feel someone’s touch.”

“I’m sorry, Zack. What you want isn’t possible.”

Zack bites his lip and looks at Jason for several seconds, a part of him deflating like it did that day in the confessional, “I thought anything was possible if you have faith.”

Jason almost wants to laugh but he just huffs under his breath and begins to turn his back to Zack, returning to the sleeve of his arm that he had left unfinished, “It is. But you must learn when faith is needed and when acceptance is your only choice.”

He reaches forward, pulling the cooler towards himself. He feels Zack step up close behind him and forces himself not to react to the heat, even as Zack places one hand on Jason’s back to steady his weight as he reaches forward to grab the bag of extra cups and murmurs a quote, “saints are only sinners who keep trying.”

Zack steps back, taking his heat with him and Jason doesn’t say a word as he lifts the cooler and moves to let Zack close the trunk. 

They walk back in silence. 

** 

By a quarter after 11, Lita has begun fussy crying and everyone begins packing up, telling Jason that they’ll be seeing him later for Mass and thanking him for the ceremony.  
Zack had ignored him since they got back, for the most part. Jason still found himself in his line of sight a number of times, but he was more interested in entertaining Lita and speaking in hushed tones to his mother who seemed a little under the weather, even after she would wave him away with a smile. 

Zack had later shoo’d his mother away to the car, reminding her of the radio show she liked to listen to at this hour to convince her when he volunteered to help clean up. Then waved everyone else off who tried to stay behind to help.

And now the trash is picked up, leftovers have been packed away, and all that’s left is taking back the cooler. “Do you want me to carry it?” Jason asks.

Zack doesn’t look at him as he bends down to pick it up himself, “Nah, I got it. I’ll see you later, Father.”

He takes a few steps out towards where Jason knows his car is before he turns around. Jason tries not to make it obvious that he was watching him go, “Sure gonna be sad to see you all covered up again later” he hesitates, eyes lingering on Jason’s torso and then adds, “but then again, I like you that way, too.” 

He leaves then and Jason wipes his hands over his face, mind on his rosary and the number of prayers he’ll be making before he's suppose to return for Mass. 

**

It’s Thursday evening.  
Earlier that day, Jason had gone to make a hospital visit to a patient, a man in his early eighties with middle stage dementia. Jason met his teenage granddaughter who told Jason about how her grandfather used to take her fishing and tell her of South American folklore he’d heard when he was a fisherman off the coast of Brazil, and of his experiences growing up there. Jason had tried to comfort her after she began to tear up and say that her grandfather couldn’t remember any of those times anymore and she was the sole keeper of those memories.  
He left them later that morning after a promise from her to make visits to the Church to tell Jason every story she remembered and one from Jason to keep them in his prayers for as long as needed. 

Jason sits now in the confessional booth and thinks about how juxtaposed his days have been lately. From the gift of the first sacrament to the door of a spiritual life through Holy Baptism, and then to the prayers of taking pain from those so close to joining God in Heaven.  
Even now he feels as if he is standing in a liminal space in which he is unable to move from.

A rustle to his left and Jason opens the grate.

“Hello, Father.” 

Jason turns his head towards the window, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m not sure whether to be flattered that you’ve come to recognize my voice, or offended that your first instinct every time I’m around you has been to interrogate me even after I’ve told you how I feel about you.”

Not wanting to take that bait, Jason shakes his head, “I mean today. It’s Thursday. I’ve never seen you show up here any day other than Saturday.”

The silence is so deafening that Jason can hear the crack of a smile beside him, “Why Father Scott, now I’m double flattered that you’ve looked for me.”

Jason isn’t suppose to call people by their names here, but he’s actually never known the identity of anyone else in this situation and Christ forgive him but he’s been feeling an exhaustion weighing down on his shoulders for over a week now, “Zack, please don’t start. If you’re here to play another one of your games, I—”

“No, wait, please. Look, Father, I’m here to just talk to someone.”

Jason’s hand hovers beside him, halfway reaching the grate cover. He hesitates because something about the tone in Zack’s voice seemed genuine, so he places his hand back down on his lap and stares silently at the grate. His eyes have grown accustomed to the darkness of the booth enough where he can actually manage to make out the slightest silhouette of Zack’s downturned face through the window.  
With a sigh, Jason relaxes his shoulders, “Go on.”

Zack, in contrast, seems to tense more. He curses under his breath before quickly apologizing. 

Jason patiently waits.

“My mom…” Zack starts. He takes a long breath. “She hasn’t been feeling too well lately and I was getting worried, you know?”

Jason thinks to the picnic and then to the Mass later that evening when she seemed to have taken a bit longer than typical to stand from her seat, even with Zack’s help. 

“I took her to the doctor today. I was sitting there in that waiting room because she wouldn’t let me come in with her. Leave it to her to get the Chinese doctor so she wouldn’t need my help, huh?” He huffs out a humorless laugh.

“Zack,” Jason whispers, but Zack barrels on before Jason can say more “And then here comes a nurse telling me to follow them inside and there’s my mom with the doctor and she’s telling me they want to have my mom go in for an observation tomorrow for some tests. I’m suppose to pack some clothes for her and then take her to the hospital to stay overnight and to top it all off, my mom tells me she doesn’t want me to stay with her there. Says I’ll just make a bigger deal of everything even though she thinks there’s nothing for me to worry about.” 

Jason hears the thump of Zack’s head resting against the wall and another deep breath, “So I get into this argument with her over it. How am I just suppose to let her stay over there alone? And then she’s calling a cousin from a few cities over that she barely even talks to. Tells me her cousin will be staying with her at the hospital like that’s suddenly enough to not make me want to go with her. And I just got more upset but… I looked at her and I just didn’t want to be angry with her. I know she’s worried, but she’s always been more worried about me so I just told her okay. But I told her I’d be taking her to the hospital myself and her cousin could meet us there.”

Zack taps his fingers against the wooden panel between them absentmindedly, “She asked me to go out and buy her some apples to take with her while she takes a nap. I’m like, mom, they’ll have apples there, and she’s just, ‘not like Mr. Kapoor sells.’ So I got them,” Zack says “and I’m driving back just thinking about how I don’t want to be at home alone while she’s at the hospital. I don’t have many friends I could stay with. My friend Trini has been staying at her girlfriend Kim's house, my friend Billy is out probably busy building rockets or something—you’d like him, he gets mad at me when I curse—and…” he laughs then, playfully, “I guess I’m here to confess a possible impending sin I’m going to be committing by seeing if I can find someone to take me home with them for the night. At least I’ll have somewhere to be, and a distraction, but—“

“You can stay at my place.” Jason blurts.

“I—what?” 

Jason shuffles uncomfortably in the stall, barely registering that he spoke that aloud but with a deep breath he leans forward in his seat, gripping the wood on either side of his legs, “I said you can say at my place. If you want. Just for the night, I mean. You can’t just—don’t go out and look for some…” he closes his eyes and shakes his head quickly, “Just, I’m offering you a place to stay without obligations. Mrs. Taylor—your mother—if there’s any way I can help her…and you…well, it’s an option if you’d like it.”

Jason almost expects Zack to crack a joke here. Maybe say something about having waited for a home invitation, but. Jason chastises himself for that poor thought when Zack is clearly worried about his mother. He knows they’re close. He’s never asked, but he imagines Zack has been taking care of his mother for a while now without complaints. There’s not many people who would do that. 

“Don’t you live in a rectory or something?” is what Jason hears after a beat of silence and he reflectively smiles to himself.

“No, it used to only be Father Schiff here so he had the closest resistance to the Church. I had a bit of an inheritance so I was able to get my own fixer-upper close by too.”

Zack doesn’t say anything again and Jason finds himself in that liminal space he keeps getting caught up in again. He doesn’t know whether he hopes Zack will turn him down or accept the offer. But the thought of Zack saying no and he’s not sure whether Zack was just joking—likely was—about going out and finding—Jason swallows the bile creeping up his throat. The offer stands just in case. 

“All right.”

Jason turns to the grate, bites his tongue when he knows Zack had turned his face towards him too. “I’d like to take you up on that offer.”

Jason nods, reflectively. “Okay.” 

More silence as both Jason and Zack tilt their heads back against the wall behind them. Jason has barely begun to pick out the sound of his watch ticking when Zack speaks again, “So, how should we do this? I’m taking my mom in an hour and… I probably can’t have my car at your place overnight like that without someone wondering about it. Can I walk there from here?”

Not having thought that far himself, Jason pictures the image of Zack’s car outside his home and the implication before coming back to himself. “Can you get here to the Church afterwards?” 

“Yeah, I can be back here in about an hour and a half.”

Jason nods again, “That’d be fine, yes. I will be finished with my work here at that time. Wait for me outside, we’ll go together. No one is here at that hour.”

There’s a thrum of adrenaline that feels like it’s coursing through Jason’s body with what he’s telling Zack. About what they’re planning to do. In any other circumstance, Jason would look upon it with the innocence of its context. But he can’t think of it that way with Zack. No matter how much he wishes he could. 

“Okay,” comes the short reply. “I’ll be here, then.” 

Jason doesn’t get a chance to say anything else as he hears Zack stepping out of the booth and listens to the sound of the Church door closing behind him a minute later. 

He needs to pray.

**

Jason steps out the back way of the Church. It’s dark out and some crickets have already begun to sing from the growing weeds of grass. He’d had another visitor after Zack had left. They had spoken to Jason about fear. An emotion that Jason has been confronted with more times than he probably ever had before since he came to this town. 

He feels it now as he makes his way to his car and finds a figure sitting by the rim of the back wheel, a backpack propped up beside them.

Zack’s eyes catch his and Jason is reminded of the last time Zack had seen him in his clerical shirt by the way that his eyes seem to be taking the shape of him in the closer he gets. 

“Only car out here, figured it must be yours.” Zack says, lifting himself up and swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

Jason nods, “Like I said, people are rarely here at this time.” He moves to open the door and listens as Zack makes his way to the passenger side door.

Once they’re both inside and Jason closes his door, his heartbeat races. He imagines how similarly they were sitting just under two hours ago, their positions reversed and with a wall separating them. Now the only thing between them is an arm rest. Jason says nothing until he turns his car on and then clears his throat, “Did you give your mother the apples?”  
It’s a stupid question but it’s the only one Jason can think of until his head clears.

“Hah, yeah,” Zack begins and rummages in his backpack, pulling out a bag with two apples before he digs one of them out, “She left me a couple. Here, this ones for you.” 

Jason bites his lip as Zack holds out the apple to him. He wants to laugh, wonders if he’s dreaming this and then also questions whether Zack realizes the ironic symbolism in his gesture. Zack’s face doesn’t show that he does and now Jason feels a cold sweat on his temples, “Uh would you mind holding it for me until we get home? I mean, until we get to my place—house?”

Zack snorts and sits back in his seat, “Sure thing” he says before taking a bite of the apple himself as he places the other one back in his backpack. 

Jason pulls out of the parking lot and out onto the road. 

**

The car ride, while quick, was also silent, but not uncomfortably so. Jason knew Zack’s thoughts must be with his mother at this time just as Jason’s are on praying for her health. 

A small dirt road leads into Jason’s house. Large rows of bushes separate his and his neighbors yards. He never considered the amount of privacy they provide until now when he parks the car and they’re covered in darkness after he takes his key out of the ignition. 

Zack still says nothing as he follows Jason out of the car, careful not to slam the door closed as they make their way to the front door. Jason fumbles twice in turning the key, but once he does and he steps aside for Zack to walk in, he feels that weight of who he just invited into his home. He closes the door with a click of the lock and places his keys in the small bowl by the door. 

“This is it,” he says, unhelpfully and unnecessarily after turning on the lights. 

They’re standing in his small living room. He doesn’t have much apart from a comfortable couch his parents had gifted him along with a coffee table. While he doesn’t indulge in it, he does have a small relatively modern television set in the corner. Zack looks around, placing his backpack on Jason’s dining table once he’s stepped into the connecting kitchen.

“Gotta say I was sorta hoping your place would be a mess or you were secretly into collecting furbies or something like that, but it’s pretty ordinary and boring.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Jason laughs.

Zack finds his trashcan and discards his apple core and then leans back against the kitchen counter, arms supporting him, “So…”

Jason isn’t sure what to do here. He hasn’t had anyone in his house besides Father Schiff until now. “Uh, are you hungry?”

Zack grins at him, “Depends, hungry for what?”

And that has Jason blushing and crossing his arms, “I mean, do you want anything to eat?”

Zack’s grin widens, “Again, eat what?” 

“Um—“

“Oh jeez,” Zack laughs, pushing himself off the counter to go to his backpack, “No, I just ate that apple and honestly, I’m not even hungry.” He tosses the other apple to Jason who catches it. 

“Oh, yeah.” He looks down at his watch. Any other day, he’d use the rest of the night to read something before getting ready for bed. He digs his fingernail into the apple skin, leaving a small indent. “Do you know what time they’ll be finished with your mom’s tests?”

He hears a sigh and tenses when Zack moves to stand beside him at the opposite counter, shoulder to shoulder “I went in with her and my mom’s cousin when we got there. Saw the room she was going to be staying in, and then asked one of the nurses about it. She guessed they’d know by late afternoon. Left them my cell number and told my mom to call me too or I’d go over there myself.” He shrugs and Jason feels the press of it against his, “Nothing to do but wait, I guess.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, Zack. She’s a strong person with a great heart and she’s got people who love her.”

Zack turns to him then, gives him a small smile, his eyes catching at Jason’s lips “Would you kick me out if I kissed you right now?”

Jason hurriedly steps away, “No, but I’m asking you not to.”

Zack huffs under his breath and looks down at his feet, “Yeah, worth a try, right?”

“You should rest,” Jason says instead. “You’ve had a long day.”

“Okay.” Zack says, still staring down at his feet.

“You can take my bedroom. I’ll take the couch.”

“Oh come on, I’m not taking your bed,” Zack scoffs, lifting his head now. He bites the corner of his mouth in an attempt to hold a smile in, “Unless you join me, anyway.”

This time Jason rolls his eyes in a smile, his heart racing still but he must be getting used to Zack’s flirting because he manages to keep his voice level “I’m going to give that a firm ‘no.’ And this is my place. I sleep in that bed every night, I can take one day without it. So take the bed, you can’t argue yourself out of it.”

With a sigh, Zack waves him off, “Fine, fine. But know that you’re free to join me if you change your mind—really, any time of the night. I won’t mind.”

“Zack…” Jason says, equal parts warning and exacerbated. 

“What? Come on, I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

Jason ignores him and moves towards a cabinet in the adjoining hallway where he pulls out a red comforter and extra pillow to set on the couch. He turns back to Zack who stands by the open doorway where the hallway and living room diverge, “Did you bring clothes to sleep in, or, I mean, I have some stuff you could borrow for the night.” 

Without skipping a beat, Zack crosses his arms over his chest, “Normally I sleep in the nude but if that will hurt your delicate sensibilities, I wouldn’t mind wearing something of yours, that’d be hot.”

Jason closes his eyes, “I may consider revisiting that concept of kicking you out,” he jokes, and smiles when he hears Zack laugh. 

It’s a nice laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> may zack's mother forgive me for using her as a plot point


	3. Chapter 3

Jason wakes to the feeling of hands caressing his hair. It feels nice and he finds himself momentarily inclining his head towards the touch.

When he slowly opens his eyes, he finds them focusing on a face in front of him and just like that, all of Jason’s senses begin catching up to him. He blinks himself completely awake and jerks his head back.

Zack just pulls his hand away to rest on the couch cushion. He’s kneeling beside the couch and Jason doesn’t know how long he’s been there but there’s light indentations on the side of Zack’s right cheek that Jason guesses are from his pillow, so he must have just woken up. “Morning,” Zack says, unbothered by Jason’s flinch from him. “Your bed is really comfortable, there’s no way you’re ever going to convince me you wouldn’t rather sleep on there again.”

“What time is it?” Jason asks.

“Around 8-ish. Did you want me to let you go back to sleep?”

“No, I usually get up around this time anyway,” Jason answers around a yawn.

“Okay, can I use your shower?” Zack asks as he stands and moves to the side of the couch.

“Of course, there’s towels in that first cabinet in the hall. Uh, do you want any breakfast?”

“If you have cereal I’ll just have that. Not all that hungry still.” Zack replies, pulling out a towel for himself.

“Sure.”

Jason lies on the couch for a while longer. He hears the bathroom door close followed by the sound of the water pipes creaking on. He thinks of Zack taking off that shirt he had borrowed from Jason—a plain black t-shirt and the grey drawstring pants. “ _Stop_.” he whispers to himself, wishing he could rest his hand on the Scripture he keeps on his bedside table. 

Then that thought takes him to Zack having slept in his bed. He remembers showing the room to Zack last night and Zack saying how disappointed he was again that he didn’t have any lurid paraphernalia in there, but how he was glad he didn’t have an overly huge picture of Jesus Christ hanging up, either. Jason smiles at the memory and then rubs his hands over his face and through his hair.  
He gently touches the place where Zack’s fingers had caressed earlier. When he pulls his hands away, he lifts himself off the couch, folds the comforter, and walks towards his kitchen in search of cereal. 

Jason is going to pour himself a glass of orange juice before he sees the apple he left on the counter last night. He can see the purpling around the indentation he had left on it. He thinks on the other discarded apple core in his trash can, of Zack showering, of his rosary; thinks back to the day he told his parents of his then broken pipe dream to play football and his new plan to dedicate himself to the Church. His life suddenly seems so condensed into moments of time rather than a life lived and Jason wonders if time moves this fast for everyone, too.

Without thinking, he takes a bite of the apple and walks towards his kitchen cabinet to pull out his two boxes of cereal. Even here he laughs at himself; one box contains enough sugar to probably keep him awake until tomorrow afternoon and the other one is made up of words meant to convince the customer of it being a dull, but healthier choice. He leaves both boxes on the counter and retrieves two bowls and spoons. 

By the time he hears the shower water turn off, Jason is sitting at his dining table, thoughts lost on the sound of the birds chirping outside as he eats his cereal. A few seconds later, he nearly drops his spoon and swallows the half-chewed grains when Zack steps in, towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping from his head down to his shoulders. “Forgot to grab some clothes,” Zack says, sounding only the slightest bit apologetic. 

Tearing his eyes away from Zack’s chest and, God help him, it takes strength, Jason looks down the table and sees the backpack. He doesn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before or even how Zack hadn’t taken it in with him to his bedroom last night. 

Jason doesn’t say anything, just looks down at his bowl and convinces himself to resist looking up again when Zack rummages in his backpack, humming. 

“What is that?”

Jason looks up then, catches his eyes latching onto a droplet of water clinging just above Zack’s collarbone. He gets a faint lingering taste of the apple he just ate and then he looks to Zack’s eyes, following his line of sight. 

“Cereal?” Jason answers, then guesses what Zack’s asking “Oh, I uh, I couldn’t decide which one i wanted so I mixed the two.” He says waving his hand towards the two boxes on his counter. 

“I’m so glad I finally saw you do something weird.” Zack says as he walks away, clothes in hand.

**

When Zack reemerges, he’s wearing a black and white raglan and pair of worn jeans. His hair is still damp, but it’s combed in place. He shakes cereal into his bowl—the sugary one only—and then pours the milk in. Jason has just finished with his and he wonders if he should have waited to eat with Zack but before he can mentally argue the right etiquette, Zack speaks, “You can use the shower now, if you wanted. I didn’t use up all the hot water or anything.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” Jason says, standing up from his seat to take his bowl to his sink to wash. 

“I’ll wash it, don’t worry about it.” Zack says to Jason as he’s about to turn the faucet on.

“No you’re a…a guest. It’ll only take a few seconds.”

Zack moves then, touches the hand Jason has hovering, “No come on, please. You’ve already let me stay at your house for the night even though you didn’t have to. Just let me do this one stupid thing.”

Jason hasn’t moved his hand away from underneaths Zack’s and he finds that he’s staring at the place where Zack’s index finger touches the bone of his knuckles. “You being here,” Jason begins, “I told you it was without any obligations. I don’t mind… I’m glad that I could help you.” he finishes.

Now when he turns to look at Zack, he finds that Zack is already looking at him. He’s a little closer than he realized but he doesn’t jump this time or tense. He just looks at him. 

“Yeah?” Zack whispers.

Jason doesn’t respond, his eyes only flickering down to Zack’s mouth when he sees him lick his bottom lip quickly, but not quick enough that Jason didn’t notice. 

Then he does tense when Zack’s hand lifts from his and he’s reaching forward towards Jason’s face. Jason has a fleeting jump of panic where a part of him tells himself to step back like the other times, but another part of him, the one that secretly wondered if the water droplet that he stared at earlier would have tasted cool against his tongue or warm from Zack’s skin, keeps him still. 

Zack’s palm presses to the side of Jason’s face and he lets out a shaky breath that Zack takes as encouragement to card his fingers in through Jason’s loose hair in a mimic of the way he had earlier. And then Zack’s throat clicks when he opens his mouth again, “You look different like this: your hair soft and out of place. I’m so used to seeing it with its side part and combed down like a choir boy.”

Jason can only nod, digging Zack’s fingers deeper against his scalp. He finds his hand clenching at his side. The hand by the sink counter still flat against the surface even as Zack’s other hand is now moving too, coming to rest over Jason’s heart like it did that day in the parking lot. And suddenly Zack’s forehead is resting against his and his eyes are closed. Jason’s breath is quick, their noses are almost touching and all he can focus on is how easy it would be for them to kiss here. He can only stare at Zack’s closed eyes and he knows Zack must feel how his heart races. The hand in his hair has stilled and Zack takes an intake of air, “Why did you become a priest?”

The question catches Jason off guard enough that his face shifts enough to bump his nose, briefly, against Zack’s, “What?”

Zack doesn’t move or open his eyes, it’s as if he’s waiting for Jason to push or pull away from him, “I mean what made you want to choose to become a priest?”

“I uh,” Jason can’t think straight in their position. Not when they’re this close and Zack is asking him about his pledge to serve God. “I wanted to help people—guide them. To give hope to those lost in the darkness, try to heal something broken. It—it was born from a selfish desire to help myself, at first,” he admits “then it just, it became who I was.”

“Oh,” Zack breaths and then Jason is closing his eyes too when he feels the word so close to his own mouth. “Did you ever wish you had done something else with your life?”

Jason swallows, “I don’t—I don’t know. Not really,” he’s lying. “Maybe,” he corrects. “I guess I’ve gotten to like the routine…or I’ve gotten comfortable with it.”

“Maybe.” Zack repeats, or he’s answering Jason’s unstated question, Jason isn’t sure and he doesn’t think it matters. 

“One more question,” Zack says and continues when he feels Jason nod, “What’s your first name?”

Jason holds his breath and feels Zack do the same. He’s never hidden his name, he always imagined everyone knew, so he’s not sure if Zack doesn’t really already know or if he just wants to hear it for himself, but he licks his lips and in as a steady enough voice as he can, tells him.

He feels the shift of air by his mouth before Zack repeats his name in a whisper, and it makes a shiver pass through Jason’s body in a way he wasn’t expecting. 

Then Zack’s hand is moving from Jason’s chest up to his neck, cupping his jaw and all Jason can think of is which cereal Zack will be able to taste from his lips as the hand at his side begins moving up to rest on Zack. But before he can rest it anywhere on him, he feels Zack’s fingers clench in his hair as he says, “You should shower now, Jason.” and then he’s moving his forehead away from Jason’s and stepping away, his hands falling away from where they had been resting. 

Jason’s eyes open just in time to see Zack turning away to take his cereal bowl in hand, his back to Jason as he walks to the dining table. 

He isn’t sure what to do or say, is unsure what he should be feeling right now, so he nods his head, “Yeah,” and leaves the kitchen quickly.

**

Once Jason is inside his bathroom, door closed shut behind him, he leans against the bathroom sink, his breath coming out fast and short like he’s trying to catch his breath. There’s still slight condensation on the mirror in front of him from when Zack had been in and Jason pinches his eyes together when he sees the blurred image of himself in the reflection. 

He drags himself over to turn on the shower and mechanically begins to strip himself of his clothes before stepping in without first checking the temperature. It’s barely beginning to warm, but Jason doesn’t care. He stands under the spray, letting the water cover him in an invisible sheath.  
It feels as if Zack is still around him and Jason rests his palms against the shower wall as his mind supplies him with the memory of how close they were, how sure Jason had been that they were going to kiss and how he hadn’t shied away from the idea. Why? There’s an electric pull in his gut at the thought—one that causes him to shiver and press his fingers over his closed eyes until he’s able to will his body back into control with a mantra of prayers. 

The water has turned progressively warmer and Jason allows the heat to seep into his tense muscles like a massage, his head still hanging between his arms against the wall. 

‘ _A few warm touches and whispered words is all it takes for me to have forsaken my promise to God_ ,’ Jason thinks.  
Naked, Jason feels exposed and uses it to drops to his knees, grunting quietly when the water causes him to slip a bit. The water still washes over him as he upturns his face to the shower and prays to God, begging his forgiveness but also begging for a sign.  
He thinks to all those who came before him and will come after him who were tested with temptations such as these. He feels sick when he thinks of how he had talked to Zack about temperance when he can't even do the same. It's hypocritical. 

He knows what it is to want. 

But like everything else in his life lately, the feeling is twice fold: his want deviates from an awaken desire, to a want and wish of absolution. He knows he can't have both, not unless he’s willing to live a life of daily penance. 

**

The house is quiet when Jason steps out of the bathroom, more clearheaded than he was when he first went in, and he briefly wonders if there’s a chance Zack left—a thought that makes him anxious.  
An inspection of the living room, dining table, and kitchen shows up empty save for the two sets of bowls and spoons set to dry on the dish rack and Zack’s backpack. _He wouldn’t have left without it_ , Jason thinks. 

He finds Zack in his bedroom, propped up by his elbows and body flat on the bed as he turns pages of Jason’s Bible inattentively.  
He looks up when Jason leans against the doorframe, “You ever read the whole thing?”

Jason smiles, his eyes crinkling in amusement, “Yes.”

“I remember when they had us read _The Odyssey_ in High School Lit., and being frustrated that you had to analyze every sentence just to understand it, but now I’m thinking we had it pretty easy compared to everyone who reads all this.”

“We had to read _The Crucible_ and _The Great Gatsby_ in my high school,” Jason replies as Zack shuts the book in front of him carefully. 

“Can’t imagine it was too fun to read about a bunch of people using religion as a weapon against each other.”

Jason bites the inside of his cheek and lifts his hand to scratch his fingers against the back of his neck “Well, I sure wouldn’t have minded reading _The Outsiders_ instead.”

“Now that,” Zack says, sitting up and placing the book back on the bedside table, “was a great book.”

“Stay gold, Ponyboy.” Jason smiles, eliciting laughter from Zack and a weightless feeling for Jason, in turn. 

Zack’s smile falters for a second as he stands from the bed, “Hey uh, do you have to be at Church or anything today? Because I can go, if you need me to. I know we never agreed on anything more than my spending the night and—“

“No,” Jason interrupts, “I don’t have any obligations today. You can stay. I won’t… I mean, my day is free.”

“So no scheduled exorcisms or appearances to save kittens from trees, maybe help old ladies cross the street?”

“I think those last two are firefighters.”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be able to help an old lady cross the street or save a kitten just because you’re not a firefighter.”

“If it ever comes up, I’ll remember that,” Jason smiles. He feels different right now. He wonders if it’s because his skin still feels fresh from the shower or for some other reason but he finds himself sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans, eyes resting comfortably on Zack’s, “What about you? I mean I know you’re waiting on word about your mother and… there anywhere you need to be?”

Zack shakes his head, picks at a loose thread from one of the bed sheets, “Nah, I usually work Monday through Friday at the mechanic shop in town but I told my boss about my mom so he gave me yesterday and today off.”

“Oh,” Jason says, “I didn’t know you were a mechanic.”

Zack shrugs, “No reason you should’ve known, I never mentioned it.”

“Okay,” Jason says instead. 

“So that TV in your living room work?” Zack asks, looking up again.

“It should, although, I only ever used it once and that was after someone from the cable company came in to install it and had me try it out. Don’t tell Father Schiff I told you, but he’s an avid soccer fan and I think he had them install cable here with hopes that I’d watch some matches and become a fan myself.”

“I’d love to see the look on his face if it turned out you’d end up supporting his team’s rival.”

“Heaven forbid.” Jason says in a mock-serious tone as he crosses himself.

“Mind if we try it out again?” Zack laughs.

Jason tips his head out the door, “Why not?” and walks out, hearing the sound of Zack’s footsteps trailing behind him.

**

The couch, while not big by any standards, leaves enough room where each of them can sit on either end with just enough space between them to keep from touching accidentally. 

Jason lets Zack take the remote after telling him he would probably be faster in figuring out how it works than he would. 

“Is there stuff you’re not allowed to watch?” Zack asks.

Jason scoffs lightly, “There aren’t actually a set of rules on what priests are or aren’t allowed to watch on TV, no.”

“Just making sure your eyes aren’t going to burn if a woman’s shaving commercial comes on or something.”

“I’ll try to close my eyes,” Jason replies, smiling when he hears Zack snort in laugher beside him.

They sit silently as Zack flips channels, pausing for several seconds over a news report on European elections before moving on and settling on a program about world traveling. 

By the first commercial break, Zack turns to Jason, “You ever want to travel?”

Jason glances at Zack and then turns back to the television, “Honestly, I never gave that much thought. I guess I did when I was younger, but I wouldn’t mind it now if I did or didn’t.” He turns back to Zack, “You?”

Zack sets back against the cushions and blows a gust of air, “Oh yeah, I’ve love to go anywhere. I had this fantasy of just taking my mom around the world, once. Now,” he pauses, his eyes unfocused until he shakes his head, “Well I’d at least like to go on a trip with her to China so she could show me where she grew up. She—well, _we_ —have family out there I’ve never met and she hasn’t seen since she immigrated here. She likes it here, …and you,” he says as he smiles at Jason and laughs, “something we have in common, right?” Jason bites his tongue and Zack tilts his head back against the cushion again, “but even though she likes it here, and it’s just been the two of us for a long time, I know she misses the home she had. So,” he shrugs, “it’d just be nice to surprise her like that.”

Jason looks at him, at the angle of his jaw, the sharpness of his features, and curve of his lips and thinks about how loved Mrs. Taylor must feel every day just having Zack in her life. “I’ll pray you’ll get that chance,” Jason says then.

Zack closes his eyes briefly, lets out a breath, and then turns his head towards Jason, “Yeah, except now I just hope I’ll be able to take her back home tonight.”

Jason doesn’t know what to say to that. Nothing that he thinks Zack would appreciate, anyway. And before he can think on it, he stretches his arm out and rests his hand on the one Zack has in the space between them, “You will,” he says then, lifting his hand away after a light swipe of his thumb over the soft and warm skin there. 

He feels Zack’s stare when Jason turns back to the TV screen, the program having returned and the host jumping into a brief history of Egypt and its mythology. 

“I always figured it was every priest’s dream to visit the Vatican.” Zack says finally, turning back to the TV.

It startles a laugh out of Jason and he looks over at Zack where he catches his bright eyes, “Well, I suppose that’s a given,” he concedes. 

The fall into a comfortable silence after that. Zack’s hand hasn’t moved from between them and Jason fights an itch to place his own hand beside it as they watch the rest of the TV program. 

**

By the time a new program has started, this time a traveler’s destination guide to the best places to eat in the midwest, Jason notices that Zack has become fidgety and glances at his cell phone at what seems like two minute intervals.  
He’s about to say something, what, he doesn’t know, but then Zack sets his phone down on the coffee table in front of them with a thump and stands, “Do you want some tea?”

“Oh um, I’m not sure if i have anything besides coffee…” Jason says.

Zack waves a hand at him, “No, I brought some, it’s in my backpack.”

“You brought tea with you?” Jason asks, confused.

“I had a feeling you wouldn’t have any and besides, if you did, you wouldn’t have one like Mr. Kapoor sells.”

“Something tells me I should be doing my grocery shopping at this Mr. Kapoor’s.”

“Don’t mention that to my mom. She’d drag you there every week with her. And she already goes so much that Mr. Kapoor offered her a job to work there.”

Jason doesn’t say anything but he thinks he wouldn’t mind it. “Sure, I’ll have some” he says instead.

Zack nods, “Okay, give me like five minutes.”

He leaves then and Jason looks at Zack’s cellphone, imagines how anxious Zack must be feeling just watching the time go by with Jason not knowing what to do or how to act around him. 

“How do you like yours,” Zack calls out from the kitchen later after Jason hears the click of the stove knob turning closed, “milk, sugar, both?”

“I’ll have it however you like it.” Jason calls back.

He hears the clinking of glasses, thinks about the set of cup and saucers he was given after leaving seminary not even a year ago. Again he’s reminded of his life being a series of snippets.

Zack walks back to the living room carrying two cups in his hands and Jason half lifts himself up to take one of the cups with a thanks. 

Zack sits back down on the couch, a little closer to Jason than he was before but still keeps some space between them. Jason blows on his tea, watches the ripples as Zack bends to take his phone again.

“This is really good,” Jason says after taking a sip. He’s unfamiliar with the spices, but they coat his mouth with a pleasant flavor. 

“And just like that, Mr. Kapoor bags another one,” Zack says, taking a sip of his own tea.

“Between this and that apple, I’d say he has.” 

Zack looks down at his phone when it chimes, but from the swipe of his finger over the screen dismissively, it must not have been important. “Do you even own a cell phone?” Zack asks, setting his own back down and leaning back a little in his seat as he sips his tea again.

“Yeah, but—“

“But you don’t really use it.” Zack finishes for him.

Jason shrugs, wiping a drop of tea from the rim of his cup, “Getting to where I am now, there’s a lot of things I just learned to live without.”

Zack hums noncommittally. 

“What do you do in that confessional booth all those hours? Don’t you get bored?”

Jason shrugs again, “I think, pray.”

“Think about what?”

Jason swallows a gulp of tea, “Nothing in particular.”  
A lie, but one that Zack doesn’t press him on. 

They fall into another silence after that, their attention dragged back onto the TV. 

After a while, Zack becomes fidgety again. His leg bounces and he’s back to checking his phone again. Just like before, Zack breaks the silence before Jason can speak, as if he senses him. “I’m getting kinda hungry, how about I make us something.”

“Uh,” Jason says, unhelpfully. “I’m not sure I have much, but I can go get something if you want?”  
He’s standing from his seat, Zack already having gotten up before he spoke.

“No no, just sit down, I already scoped out your half-empty stock but I can figure something out. I just… I need to do something with my hands or I’m going to go crazy waiting for the hospital to call. I doubt you have some old beat up car I could work on, so next best thing.”

“Actually," Jason begins hesitantly, "I do have an old truck in the back that barely made it on the trip here when I moved in.”

“What?” Zack stops halfway out of the living room and turns around “Seriously?”

At Jason’s nod, Zack rolls his eyes “Well, I don’t have any of my tools anyway, so it doesn’t matter.” He pauses, “But good to know.”

“Okay. Well, uh, you’re free to look around the kitchen; but like I said, there’s not much, I’m not really one for—wait, so you know how to cook?”

Zack rolls his eyes again, this time with a smile, “Surprised I’m more than a pretty face?”

Jason doesn’t know how to answer that and Zack huffs out a laugh, “Yes I know how to cook. I’m telling you, it’s just been me and my mom practically all my life and maybe we have a guilty pleasure of watching the Food Network.”

With that, he disappears to the kitchen and Jason hears him rummaging around. Not wanting to just sit there, Jason takes his and Zack’s now empty cups and walks into the kitchen where Zack is examining a bag of carrots. 

“What do you usually even eat?”

Jason feels his face redden a bit at the accusatory tone, “Honestly, a lot of people at Church have a habit of taking me Tupperware boxes with food so I eat that.”

“Unbelievable.” 

“Martha always insists!” Jason says, defensively after he’s placed the cups in the sink, “And you can’t say no to her. She was part of the women’s Airforce service pilots in World War II, I’d like to see anyone say no to her.”

“She is pretty badass,” Zack concedes. 

“She once threatened to personally show me how she’d take care of men who’d get too fresh with her when she was younger if I didn’t call her by her first name. Said Mrs. Rodham was her mother's name, not her's.”

“I’m going to give her a high-five next time I see her.” Zack grins before he looks back to the fridge, “Well, my options aren’t that plentiful but surprisingly, I can just make by with a vegetable stew.”

“You can make that with this?” Jason asks, looking at the unfortunate state of his refrigerator contents.

“Food Network.” Zack announces, as if that explains everything. 

**

Jason finds that he likes watching Zack move around the kitchen. His concentration comes to a focus on what he’s doing, on using just his eyes to measure what he’s adding to the pot that Jason honestly didn’t even know he had in his cupboards—something he decided not to disclose to Zack. 

When Jason asked if there was something he could do to help, Zack handed him some potatoes and told him to peel and chop. By the time Jason had just managed to finish doing that, Zack had done everything else and was adjusting the temperature. “We’ll put those in when this comes to a boil,” Zack said when Jason presented him with the potatoes. 

Jason nods and Zack mumbles something about checking his phone after he pats his pockets, remembering he left his cellphone in the living room as he leaves the kitchen. As Jason takes to cleaning up, he pauses on his way to rinsing his hands after he places the tea cups on the drying rack. Something about the sight of the cups side by side leaves him with a warm feeling. 

When he finishes, he turns to see bubbles beginning to form in the pot. “I think it’s boiling now, should I put in the potatoes?” he calls out.

“Oh, yeah! Don’t toss them in though, it’ll splash out and I don’t want to be blamed your getting burned. And then turn the heat down a little.”

“Noted.” Jason chuckles and carefully drops in the potatoes, one-by-one.

By the time he’s finished, he steps back into the living room where Zack is concentrating on what looks like a game on his phone. He decides to let him continue and quietly walks away to the small room beside his bedroom.  
It was originally meant to be an office, Jason thinks, so he has a small bookshelf against a wall that holds reference materials, sets of document copies from communions, baptisms, and other things from Father Schiff. He does most of his readings here at the small old-fashioned dark wood table he has pushed against the room’s sole window. Like the other rooms, it’s neat and simple; or, boring and ordinary, as Zack would call it. 

Jason has not done his daily prayer yet and now seems like the best time. He kneels with the rosary he keeps on his desk and begins his prayers, beseeching a guiding light and hand to Zack’s mother.

* 

“There you are.” comes a voice from behind Jason. He blinks his eyes open and turns his head to where Zack is standing just inside the door. He watches Zack’s eyes taking in the room. He looks like he’s going to say something but then he looks at Jason and catches himself before clearing his throat, “The foods done.” 

“Oh,” Jason says, surprised. He must have been here longer than he imagined. “Okay.”

He stands and Zack lingers at the door for a another few seconds before he walks to the kitchen. With a sign of the cross and a whispered “Amen,” Jason follows him out the door.

**

He sits with Zack at the dining table, steam rising from the bowls in front of them. Zack lifts his spoon before he sets it down, “Are you uh,… do we say Grace?”

Jason smiles and gives him a small nod before closing his eyes and bends his head slightly. He hears Zack do the same. “Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen.” Zack says a second later. 

After taking his first bite, Jason looks up, surprised, “You might have to show me which channel the Food Network is on.” 

Zack laughs around his spoon, “Next thing you know you’ll be coming over to watch it with me and my mom to yell at show contestants.”

Jason smiles, “Maybe.”

**

When they’ve finished and have washed the dishes, Jason asks Zack if he’d like to take the leftovers, offering him one of the number of Tupperware’s in his collection but Zack declines, telling him the leftovers would be in better use with Jason. 

By the time they’ve returned to the living room, Jason can’t help feeling how pleasant the day has felt. It’s not that he’s felt lonely since he came to this town, and there are a number of people who would talk his ear off if he gave them a chance, but this has been more intimate, for lack of a better word.  
While this situation could have happened under better circumstances, there is something about having Zack here that has felt more significant to Jason’s life than he’s willing to admit.  
And he finds an ever-growing part of himself understanding longing. 

He is so lost in his thoughts, that Jason doesn’t realize that Zack has hunched in on himself on the other side of the couch, face covered by his hands.

“Zack?” Jason asks, concerned. 

Zack shakes his head, “I’m sorry.” He presses his fingers in his eyes and slowly drags his hands away, they look red. “I’m just scared, you know? What if my mom has something serious? What would I do if she d—“ he stops talking, swallows and shakes his head again.

Without thinking, Jason moves to sit beside Zack and wraps his arms around him. Zack doesn’t hesitate as he turns his face into Jason’s neck and muffles a broken sound from his throat against his shoulder. 

“She’s going to be okay, Zack.” Jason soothingly rubs his hand against Zack’s back.

“But what if she’s not.” he hears, voice quiet as Zack’s arms carefully wrap around Jason.

“Have faith.” Jason says, but then when he feels the tremble under his hands, he closes his eyes, “She has you, Zack. No matter what happens, you’ll be there for her and you both… have me… and everyone else who cares about you.” he finishes. 

He feels Zack still beneath him, it’s so fleeting that he wouldn’t have noticed it had he not been holding him so close but then he feels Zack nod against his shoulder, “Thanks.” he whispers.

They sit like that for another minute and then Jason feels him pulling back, his face turned away, an apology slipping from his mouth as he lifts his arms away. And something about seeing Zack apologizing—and maybe it’s apologizing for the outburst or for touching him, or both, but Jason can’t stomach that Zack should be sorry for either of them.

Before Zack can fully pull away, Jason’s hands slide up Zack’s back and move to cup his face, intent on telling him as much. It only takes a second for Zack to look at him after he does it, but then Jason finds himself pressing his lips against his.  
It’s a light press, barely there if not for the clear, soft pressure between them. 

He pulls back far enough to lock his eyes with Zack’s after. They’re slightly pink around the edges like his eyes stung from the unshed tears he held back. And they’re looking at Jason with a vulnerability that Jason wants to replace with the cocksure and teasing ones he’s gotten used to. So he closes the gap between them again and this time Zack responds with an answering pressure.  
Then Zack’s hands are wrapping around Jason again, hands hesitant, but firm and he makes another sort of sound in his throat that’s a different type of ache. 

Jason’s heart pounds, his eyes closing on reflex when Zack’s lips move against his, a softer and slicker caress that contrasts to the stronger grasp from his hands on his back. He realizes Zack is pulling him closer to him, tipping back against the armrest to shift their weight and Jason can’t help but gasp when he feels the wet heat of Zack’s tongue catching his bottom lip.  
It feels like an electric shock down his spine when their tongues touch and Jason doesn’t know if the answering groan came from him or Zack but everything seems to fade away apart from the way their mouths have seemingly molded together. 

It feels good. A type of good that Jason had been fearing and he can’t think straight enough to know why he feared it and _should_. But then he hears a chiming and his mind tries to locate the sound. And somehow he’s able to recognize it as a ringing.  
A phone ringing, and suddenly he’s trying to pull back but Zack just grips him harder, opens his mouth that bit more and Jason wants to lose himself in this, he _does_ , but he pulls away enough to call Zack’s name, his breath hard and fast. 

Zack’s eyes open, his pupils blown and unfocused. He looks ready to move to kiss him again until he blinks and Jason sees the moment the sound registers and then Jason is pulling away from him at the same time that Zack is lunging for the phone.

“The hospital.” Zack says around a pant before he quickly touches his finger to the screen and raises the phone to his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know you're all dying to know the answer to this: the cereal was fiber one and other was the generic brand of fruit loops, otherwise known as fruit spins.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: i don't know what Zack's mother is diagnosed with in the movie, we just get a clue that it's terminal. BUT LISTEN. i'm weak and can't do that to her even in fictional form. that being said, i'm taking a free pass with their not saying what she has, to making it something i randomly remembered from a class i took some years ago where i had to memorize some peripheral nervous system disorders, okay? like that's honestly all this is. point is that it's not terminal. i'll fight you.

Jason stands off the couch, watching Zack as he catches his breath, hears him confirm who he is. His face is unreadable and Jason wonders if he should give him some privacy but he doesn’t want to leave him alone if he’s told something that could break him.  
And he’s catching his breath, his lips tingling and just like that, he’s realizing he just kissed Zack. It feels like a wave of panic that ripples through his body. He doesn’t hear what Zack is saying into his phone, barely registers when Zack hangs up and stands from his couch. He only manages to hear Zack say something about needing to go to the hospital and it takes Jason another second to make himself speak, “I’ll take you.”

Zack nods and sprints to the dining room. _To get his backpack_ , something in Jason answers. 

He still can’t think clearly. He needs to. 

Needs to understand what just happened but then he hears the zip of Zack’s backpack somewhere behind him and he thinks of Mrs. Taylor. Whatever Jason has to come to terms with, it can wait. 

** 

By the time Jason and Zack are pulling out of his driveway, Jason feels his body like a live wire. He hasn’t looked Zack in the face since the call and he still doesn’t know what he was told over the phone. He wants to ask him about the call but he’s still having trouble speaking. 

Zack, for his part, isn’t saying anything either. 

When they make it to the hospital, the one he visited just yesterday, Jason notes, he’s not sure what to do. He stops at the entrance, doesn’t know what to say to Zack right now. But then Zack is turning to him, his hand coming to rest over Jason’s thigh. It feels like a hot brand and it burns more when their eyes lock together, “Come with me?” Zack asks, softly. “Please.”

Jason swallows, his hands gripping the steering wheel, but he nods just the same. 

And then Zack is nodding back, “I’ll go up to the desk for the passes and wait for you.”  
He leaves the car, taking his hand away from Jason’s leg even though it leaves its imprint the whole while it takes Jason to park his car. 

When he turns off the engine, he closes his eyes, grips his steering wheel again, tries to think of a prayer he could say but everything is half-formed. He thinks it selfish to try to ask for strength when he should be seeking forgiveness. 

His hand unwraps from the steering wheel and it comes to rest fingers over his own lips. They still feel warm, but they always feel like that, don't they? Jason opens his eyes and steps out of the car with a shaky breath.

** 

When he steps inside, Zack is thanking an older woman at the front desk and motions Jason over. 

“Oh, Father Scott, so nice to see you again,” she says as she’s holding out a small rectangular sticker with a room number written on the paper. 

Jason takes the sticker with a thanks and a nod. He can see her curious gaze and Jason wishes he had at least changed into his clerical shirt. Knows that if he had been thinking more clearly, he would have.  
For her part, Maxine, Jason remembers her name being, doesn’t seem more interested than casual curiosity and even smiles at Jason and Zack when they excuse themselves. 

They take a short and quiet elevator trip and then Jason is following Zack to a door four rooms down. Inside, they find Mrs. Taylor propped up in bed with what looks like a tabloid magazine in her hand. 

Her face lights up when she sees Zack, and she squeezes him back when he envelopes her in a hug. When they pull apart, Zack takes her hand in his, and she finally notices Jason standing at the threshold “Father Scott?”

She turns to Zack, confused.

“He gave me a ride here, mama.”

And that has her more confused as she takes in Jason’s state of dress. He can see the question on the tip of her tongue and maybe Zack can too because his mother glances at their hands when Zack gives her’s a squeeze. She must see something in her son’s eyes because all at once, she reaches to pat the top of his hand with her other free hand and she nods a sort of sad but loving smile at him. “Okay, I just want to make sure he was not here to ask me about my funeral.”

“Mama!” Zack exclaims, eyes wide, but Mrs. Taylor just laughs patting Zack’s hand again quickly, and Jason is stuck with how alike Zack is to his mother.

“I joke!” she says, turning that echo of Zack’s grin to Jason, “I joke, I am fine.”

“Mama, they told me they did a spinal tap for testing.”

“Ah,” she scoffs, letting Zack’s hands go as she settles back in the bed, “It was just a small prick. I tell you that time when I was little girl and snake bit me while I swim in lake?”

Zack crosses his arms, “Yes, I’ve heard that story a million times.” he says dismissively, “They don’t do those types of tests for nothing. What did the doctor say?” he looks around the room then, “and where is cousin Li-lin?”

“I sent her home.”

Jason watches as Zack closes his eyes and lets out a tired and impatient breath, “When?”

“Ach, Zack, please go ask nurse when doctor will come by. She said doctor would come when you arrived.”

“I can go ask, Mrs. Taylor.” Jason says then but she shakes her head, “No, no, please, Father Scott, come in.”

Zack, still wanting to argue with his mother about how long she had been alone in the hospital, but more worried about her wellbeing, mumbles something about this conversation not being over and leaves the room.

Jason walks closer to where Mrs. Taylor lies comfortably in the hospital bed “I’m glad to see you up, Mrs. Taylor. I’ve been praying for your health since the moment your son told me you were here.”

Mrs. Taylor smiles fondly, “My son, he always so worried about me. But I worry about him more. Thank you, Father Scott, for your prayers even though I am okay,” she adds that last part in a stern voice, “and for bringing him here.”  
She pauses for a second and then meets his eyes, “he like you, my Zack.”

Jason holds his breath, has a moment where his vision swims, but tries not show it. 

She just continues to hold his gaze and relaxes more in her pillow, “And I like you too, Father Scott. I like Father Schiff too but I like you a little more. And you more handsome.” 

Jason chokes a bit when he tries to exhale too fast.

Mrs. Taylor, for her part, just laughs again, “Aha, you show me how much more handsome you are today with your pink cheeks” she teases.

Zack walks in then and looks between them, “Mama, the nurse told me you sent cousin Li-lin home this morning and that you tried to have her go home last night, less than an hour after you got here.”

Mrs. Taylor’s smile changes into a scowl and she tsks, “’ta, that nurse. She such a busybody. She try to take my apples from me before too. Say it was to keep them out my way but I know she want one herself.”

“I’m sure, mama.” Zack sighs, “Just—“ he says something Jason can’t understand but it sounds accusatory, and then shakes his head, and in English, mentions that the doctor is on his way.

With that, Mrs. Taylor tries to sit up and Jason goes to her side to help her. She looks like she wants to slap Jason’s hands away but, maybe remembering who he is, allows him to set the pillows underneath her more comfortably. 

“Thank you, handsome Father Scott.” she says then, with a pat to his arm. Jason bites his tongue when he hears Zack snort in laughter behind him “You’re welcome,” he answers quietly, his cheeks warm, to Mrs. Taylor twinkling eyes. 

A few seconds later they hear the sounds of footsteps on the tiled corridor outside. Zack moves to stand between his mother and Jason when a sharp-nosed man walks in with dark hair and kind, slightly blue eyes. “Well how’s my favorite patient doing now?” he asks in what sounds like a southern drawl. Mrs. Taylor flaps her hand at him, “I told you before, I am fine.”

“Just makin’ sure,” he replies with a smile and then turns to Zack for a handshake, “Dr. Roe” he says by way of introduction and Zack replies with his own name, “Her son.”

Dr. Roe nods and then turns his handshake to Jason before he stops short, “Oh! Why, Father Scott, I almost di’nt recognize you dressed like this. Friend of the family?” he asks, nodding to Mrs. Taylor.

“Uh, yes,” Jason answers, shaking Dr. Roe’s hand anyway.

“Well I’m glad to hear it. Ms. Vieira told me you talked to her yesterday afta’ visitin’ her father. She really appreciated that.” 

“He is a good handsome man.” Mrs. Taylor says then and Jason feels exacerbated as he listens to Dr. Roe and Zack laugh at the comment and tries not to look at Zack when he feels him graze his hand discretely between them. 

“I wouldn’t argue it,” Dr. Roe snickers as he lifts the folder in his arms, “Now, how about we get to business, hm?”

Zack stands straighter beside Jason and Mrs. Taylor sighs quietly with a curt nod. 

“So we got the results from the fluid we sampled and from what we got through the nerve conduction exam, and well, it took me some research and a couple calls, but it seems to be that what you have is somethin’ called Guillain-Barre syndrome. Now it’s rare, but what it is, is an autoimmune disorder. What’s happenin’ is that your immune system’s got some wires crossed on a cause of this disorder telling it to target things it shouldn’t—in this case, your nerves that help to transmit information to your brain like touch and it causes some lost data for your muscles. You told Dr. Zhang yesterday that you was feelin’ tinging and some weakness on both sides of your body but the pain was worse at night, is tha’ right?

Mrs. Taylor clears her throat, her face neutral, “Yes.”

“That alone seems enough to manage and most doctors would’ve given a simple diagnosis with a slap of a prescription, but Dr. Zhang has some experience with these symptoms and she did the right thing in having you come here for these tests so we caught it earlier than’s typical, which is a great thing.”

Zack, who had moved to take his mother’s hand again while Dr. Roe spoke, interrupts then, “Are you saying that it’s not terminal? I mean, is there a cure?”

“There’s not currently any cure for Guillain-Barre syndrome but there are a couple of treatment options in which studies have supported 6-12 month recovery periods for—might even be less time for since we caught this so soon. There’s also some integrative therapies that don’t have any empirical support, mind you, but there’s been positive reports that acupuncture or acupressure helps relieve symptoms on of account that it targets muscles and all that.” 

“What are the treatment options?” Zack asks.

“Well,” Dr. Roe lifts a paper from his folder, “to date, there’s two of ‘em: immunoglobulin therapy, and that one is where we get healthy immunoglobulins from donors, which are antibodies in the blood—these things your immune system makes like little soldiers to fight bacteria ’n viruses—and we just pass them through, intravenously. They get right to work in blockin’ the mixed up antibodies doin' all that damage that’s got some responsibility for the Guillain-Barre syndrome. The other option is a little trickier but it’s a plasma exchange where we take the liquid part of the blood, plasma it’s called, and separate it from the blood cells. After that, the blood cells are put back in and it tricks the body into making more plasma to make up for it. What _that’s_ doin’ is removing some of them messed up antibodies I mentioned.”

“Is one better than the other?”

Dr. Roe shakes his head, “It really don’t matter which one is done, you can even do both but it won’t speed nothing or work better than just one of ‘em on their own.”

Zack looks down at his mother who looks contemplative but otherwise quietly calm “How soon can we start the treatment option?”

“Well, we can ideally start the intravenous immunoglobulin or IVIg treatment about a month from today if we find a compatible donor and we establish that the treatment would be appropriate. The plasma exchange may take an additional 2-3 weeks to have all the instruments in order.”

“How much it cost?” Mrs. Taylor says at the same time Zack announces he and his mother share blood type and he’s willing to donate.

“Mama, don’t worry about how much it’ll be, I’ll handle it.”

She replies to her son in something neither Jason nor Dr. Roe are able to understand and then they watch as she and Zack go back and forth in increasing irritation until Zack’s jaw clenches and he takes a steady breath. 

“How much?” Mrs. Taylor asks again in English. “For the IVIg one.” Zack adds.

Dr. Roe glances down the paper in his hand, “I can’t give you an exact number, you understan’, but you got some health insurance which is a good thing and there’s a few considerations to account for…” he pauses in thought and then looks at Mrs. Taylor “might be able to get it down to about $800, maybe a grand each month.”

Mrs. Taylor frowns and looks down at her hands “Too much.” she says simply, repeating it again when Zack tries to argue that they can manage it.

Zack crosses his arms, “Well I’m not just going to let you get worse.” 

Jason thinks about the small sum of inheritance he still has. It isn’t as much now that he bought that house and the used car after his truck began giving out, but it’s still infinitely more than he needs, especially since he's suppose to be striving for a modest living. He opens his mouth to say as much but knows Mrs. Taylor would shoot him down. “We can host some fundraisers at the Church.” he says instead.

They all turn to him and he continues, “Father Schiff and I have discussed making plans for events at the Church now that the highway they were working on finished. It would be a good way for people to get to know each other and we could have them once a month.”

“I will not take money from others,” Mrs. Taylor argues, stubbornly.

“You wouldn’t be taking it from them, Mrs. Taylor,” Jason says, taking a step towards her bed, “everyone can bring food or other things. Zack mentioned how you and he like to cook, maybe you could make something to bring and so could others. People can make donations and if you won’t take all the donations, at least take a percent of it.”

Zack says something to his mother in Mandarin and she scowls, replies a quick retort and Jason hears his own name mixed in with words he doesn’t understand when Zack answers back. Dr. Roe has taken to standing patiently to the side. 

Finally, Mrs. Taylor turns to Jason, “20% and you take 80%”

“70% for you, 30% for the Church?” he tries.

“35% for bill, rest for you.”

“Really, Mrs. Taylor, the Church gets by just fine with the weekly donations we are given. I could not, under good judgment, take anything more than even 40% of the proceeds.”

“Too much.” she says again and Zack groans, “Mama, how about this: we take 60% and really, we can’t know how much it would be so you can’t say it’s too much, and on top of that, Ja—Father Scott has an old truck I can work on for him. That way we would be thanking him for holding the fundraisers.”

Jason wants to argue that it would be the Church, not him, but he stops short when he realizes what Zack just offered and the thought of Zack returning to his house has him feeling anxious and maybe a little nauseous. Before he can say anything, however, Mrs. Taylor agrees, “Fine. Only first few until the help is no longer necessary, but Zack, I am changing deed of house to your name and I will take offer Mr. Kapoor give me to help him in his store.”

Zack splutters, “What, why?”

“This is treatment for me, not you. You should not be responsible for paying it so you will take deed in exchange and I will receive more money from job with Mr. Kapoor so we can pay this on own.”

“I’m not taking the deed to the house.”

“Then I will not accept other offer.”

Zack and Mrs. Taylor look at one another stubbornly and Jason can’t imagine trying to intervene between them. Dr. Roe, for his part, has taken to studiously and deliberately glancing through the file in his hand. 

“Fine.” Zack says, finally. 

They turn expectantly to Dr. Roe who is now smiling humorously, “Glad to hear it’s settled and if I may, it sounds like everyone came out with a good deal.” He turns to Zack, “If you would like, we can get someone to take blood sample from you to make sure you’re the right match and get tha’ out of the way.”  
Now he turns to his mother “And you, Mrs. Taylor, will have to undergo one more test today so we can make sure you’ll be gettin’ the right procedure that won’t interfere with any vaccines you’ve had, I’m afraid. But barring that you take some medication I will provide you in the meantime, you will be free to go home after that and we’d be seeing you after giving you a call with the results.”

“Yes, yes, fine.” she waves off.

“Great!” Dr. Roe replies, making a note on a clipboard document and making a show of closing his folder. “I’ll have one of the nurses come in to conduct that last exam,” he pulls off the paper he wrote a note on from the clipboard and hands it to Zack, “and Zack, if you wouldn’t mind headin’ downstairs to the lab to get your blood tested. You’ll see some signs directin’ your way once you step off the elevator.” He turns back to Mrs. Taylor, “Okay then, Mrs. Taylor, I’ll be leaving the prescription note with the nurse who comes in and you make sure to get that down at the pharmacy. If you’re comfortable with it, I’d go ahead and recommend one of those integrative therapies I mentioned.”

“Thank you, doctor.” she replies. He shakes her hand, then Zack’s, and Jason’s before he leaves the room. 

Jason watches as Zack’s shoulders sag once the doctor is out of sight and he turns to his mother who seems just as tired. “I’ll give you two some privacy while I step out to the restroom.” he says then and walks away quickly before either one can argue with him.

He passes behind Dr. Roe who is speaking with a nurse at the front desk and follows the corridor to the restroom entrance. It’s empty save for one an older man washing his hands and who nods a greeting at Jason when he walks in. He leaves the restroom as Jason is walking to a stall. After the door closes, Jason turns around to step towards the sinks where he places a wet hand to his forehead. Here, alone with his thoughts, Jason finally allows himself to feel the wave of guilt hanging over him since he kissed Zack. 

It was foolish and unforgivable. 

God tested him and he failed. He failed Zack by making him believe something that he can't give him. 

He closes his eyes, splashes more water on his face, fantasizes its Holy Water so that he might wash away his sins, but he’s unable to shake the memory from his mind. Kissing Zack was something he can’t even express in words, and it’s so intertwined with opposing emotions, that he imagines himself floating above himself like a person looking into his life. He would be lying to himself if he said the kiss didn’t pull at something deep within himself, because he finds that he can still make out the sensation of how Zack’s lips moved under, and against his, and it sends a jolt through his body. 

It could be easy to seek forgiveness and a means of mercy if he could distance himself from Zack and maybe speak to Father Schiff about finding a replacement while he reconnects with God. But then he thinks of Mrs. Taylor, of the couple who came to him with their secret and love, of Ms. Vieira who he pledged promises to, the family who chose him and placed their trust in to conduct a Holy Baptism, of Father Schiff who has been gracious and thankful since Jason’s arrival. And Zack. Even with everything, he can't abandon him when he seems so lonely and fragile, no matter how much he tries to mask it. Maybe it’s selfish reasoning, even excuses, but it’s what he has now. 

One more splash of water on his face and then he’s startled when he feels a hand brushing up his shoulder to his neck, “Hey,” Zack says, when Jason’s eyes find his in the reflection. 

Jason blinks a droplet of water from his eyes and steps back against the paper towel dispenser on the side wall. Zack misinterprets this as a sign to crowd him in, or maybe it’s Jason who pretends it isn’t one. Zack’s hand is still on him as he cups Jason’s jaw, rubbing the dampness on Jason’s cheek with his thumb.

When Jason licks the water from his lips, he sees Zack’s eyes follow the movement and darken a little bit, or maybe that, too, is just Jason’s imagination under the fluorescent lights. He still feels like he’s floating above himself. 

But when Zack moves his face forward, Jason ducks his head.

Zack’s hand doesn’t leave his jaw, but he stops a few inches away from Jason’s face, “Is everything okay?” he asks.

Jason uses a free hand to wipe over his face and shakes his head, “I shouldn’t have kissed you, Zack.”

The hand on his face tightens slightly, “Don’t.” Zack warns. 

Jason just shakes his head again, can’t bring himself to look up, but can’t bring himself to place more distance between them, either. “You were vulnerable and I took advantage of that. I’m sorry.”

“No, goddamnit, Jason, don’t say that.” Jason flinches and simultaneously revels in the private sound of his name, but Zack continues and brings his other hand to cup the other side of Jason’s face to move his head up. 

Jason lets him.

“Look at me,” Zack instructs. 

Jason does.

“You don’t get to blame yourself for something I wanted. What I still want.”

A sound catches in Jason’s throat for how much he just wants to shift his face forward and capture a kiss from Zack again. He's so weak, but he needs to be stronger. “I won’t damn your soul.” he says then.

Zack huffs then and he shakes his head minutely, “It’s too late.”

Jason closes his eyes, and pleads, “Don’t say that.”

“One way or another, almost everyone is,” he presses his forehead against Jason’s—an echo of their position in the kitchen just hours earlier, “but don't we have to believe that in our final moments, God will forgive us for having some freewill?”

“There is no forgiveness without piety.” Jason whispers. 

He feels the barest touch of Zack’s lips against his when he speaks, voice low, from the pull of forced smirk, “I once heard during Mass that there's always salvation through God’s grace.”

Jason doesn’t get a chance to respond to that when they hear the sound of the bathroom door opening. He opens his eyes as Zack takes a step back from him, the smirk still on his face, less forced and more natural now, as he moves to the sink beside the one Jason was using before a man walks around the corner and steps into one of the stalls without a glance to Jason who is still nearly pinned to the wall. 

Zack turns back to him after rinsing his hands and points to the dispenser behind Jason who moves away after a second. 

When they walk out into the corridor, Zack beckons Jason with a tilt of his head as he reaches to pull out a folded paper from his back pocket, “They took my mom to get her last test. Come with me to get my blood sampled. Since you were my ride here and mom sent her cousin back home, I hope you don’t mind giving us a lift home.”

“Of course,” Jason says. He’s still in a daze. He doesn’t know which part of what Zack said he’s responding to, but he thinks it doesn’t matter. 

**

As Jason waits for Zack in the small waiting room outside the door Zack had stepped in for testing, he feels himself finally coming back into himself. 

He feels exhausted, guilty, intoxicated with something that terrifies him, and worried for how weak he becomes around Zack. 

But weakness is not an excuse Jason can use for his behavior. Zack may think everything inevitable, but Jason can still fight to show Zack the path to righteousness. Even if that thought already seems like a hollow and empty promise.

** 

When Zack meets him in the waiting room, a small cotton ball taped to the inner bend of his arm, he comments on their seeing if his mother is ready. Jason makes an effort to keep a respectable enough distance between them as they make their way back upstairs, knows that Zack is aware of it but doesn’t say anything. 

As they return to the room Mrs. Taylor is slipping her feet into her shoes. Zack goes to take her arm, “Did you get the prescription from the nurse?”

“Over there,” she says, pointing to a paper by her pillow. 

Jason walks over to grab the paper, “I’ve got it.” He steps forward to help Mrs. Taylor from her other side, but thinks better of it when he sees her shove Zack away lightly apart from linking her arm around his.  
He follows behind them as they make their way to the pharmacy and hands Zack the prescription. The hospital is fairly empty and so Jason suggests getting to his car so he can pick them up in the entrance since the wait for the medication shouldn’t be long. 

*

By the time that Jason reaches his car and sits inside, he takes a deep breath before slowly pushing it out. 

His fingers itch to place his hands on his rosary—something he finds himself doing more of lately. 

He slowly drives his way to the entrance, wonders if he should step out to open the door for them but before he has a chance, he sees them walking out. Zack points to the car and Jason leans across the seat to open the passenger door from the inside where Zack helps his mother into. Seatbelt securely locked in, Zack enters through the back door to sit behind his mother where his backpack still lies. 

It’s at this moment that Jason realizes he doesn’t know where Zack lives and thinks Mrs. Taylor will surely start to question why Zack was with him in the first place. He should have asked Zack about this when he had the chance. But then Zack is leaning forward in his seat, hands on his mother’s shoulder as he tells her that they’re stopping by at the Church because he left his car there before he got the call from the hospital.  
It’s not a lie, but Jason knows important details are missing. He also sees it as a message from Zack who briefly catches his eye in the rearview mirror when his mother nods and he sits back against his headrest. 

When they arrive, Jason spots Zack’s car in the parking lot in the exact spot beside the lacebark elm tree as before. Jason idles beside it while Zack steps out the car and helps his mother into their own, shoving in his backpack to the backseat without her seeing.  
He hears Zack tell his mom to wait in the car while he thanks Jason. Zack’s mother says something in her native dialect and Zack nods. 

When Zack leans down into the open door, Jason steals a glance to where Mrs. Taylor sits where she seems to be reading the label on her medication with a frown.

“Thank you for today,” Zack begins, “and for last night” he says in a lower tone. 

“Anytime.” Jason replies, automatically. 

“I hope so,” Zack says but continues before Jason can say more, “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Mass?” 

Jason blinks back his surprise, “Oh. Yes, of course.”

Zack laughs and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth briefly, “Mama said to give you her thanks as well, handsome Father Scott.” He closes the door without letting Jason answer and Jason is left with no choice but to sit back and watch them drive away. 

A minute later, he heads home.

**

Jason spends his Saturday morning speaking to Father Schiff about the fundraising idea and is unsurprised with how enthusiastic he seems over it. Although, when Jason mentions some of the proceeds going to Mrs. Taylor, Father Schiff comments that he wishes she could have been convinced to take the full amount, adding that he is sure everyone in the community would gladly contribute what they can to her even without the fundraising. 

Later, Jason spends what almost seemed like an insurmountable amount of time praying and toys with the idea of searching for another Church in which he could seek confession in order to recapture a state of grace. 

For now, he needs to try to gather some strength. 

**

5:25 PM

Jason looks out to the filled nave. He catches Mrs. Taylor’s eye and he gives her a smile that she returns, then proceeds to avoid looking at Zack beside her for the duration of Mass. 

** 

Before Jason closes the evening, he makes an announcement of the upcoming concept of having fundraising events, decides not to mention the part about Mrs. Taylor until she herself feels ready to make it public, and tells everyone that details will be put together in the coming weeks. 

When he thanks everyone for coming at the door, he’s met with enthusiasm over the fundraising idea. 

Jason steels himself when Zack and his mother are the next to walk up to him. 

“Thank you for not saying about my treatment yet.” Mrs. Taylor says, taking Jason’s hand in both of hers.

“I wouldn’t mention it unless you yourself wanted me to.” Jason replies, “However, I did tell Father Schiff about it and he wondered if you wouldn’t reconsider accepting the full proceeds.”

“Deal already made.” She replies simply, patting his hand. He nods, “Thought I’d give it a try anyway.”

He sees Zack staring at him but he manages to keep his eyes on Mrs. Taylor when she follows up with thanking him for Mass and says her goodbyes. As soon as he lets her hands go, he reaches out to shake the hand of Mr. Reid behind them and is swept into conversation with him even as the back of his neck prickles from Zack’s passing gaze. 

**

When Jason steps into the confessional booth, the quiet darkness fills him with a sense of calm. 

Someone is already inside the adjoining booth so Jason moves the grate. A younger woman’s voice greets him and Jason allows his calm to guide him through her confession and absolution. 

Another person follows after her and then Jason is met with quiet again. He doesn’t hear the sound of the Church door opening or closing anymore and when he makes out the face of his watch, he sees he has an hour yet to wait. 

He allows himself to replay the day’s events in his head. When he gets to Zack, he feels a pang of guilt for making such an effort to avoid him, but Jason felt it necessary. Perhaps with time and diligence, it will get easier. 

Another minute or two passes and he begins to feel the coolness of the room seep into his skin, making him drowsy enough that he could almost fall asleep. He never has and won’t now, but he allows his eyes to rest as he recites a prayer in his mind. 

A knock to the wall beside him has Jason’s eyes snapping open. He hadn’t fallen asleep, but he had been so lost in his calm that he didn’t hear anyone come in. Reaching across, he opens the grate, an apology on the tip of his tongue before he hears Zack’s voice, “So now you’re ignoring me?”

Jason closes his eyes, his shoulders falling. Of course. He should have expected this, but maybe a part of him thought Zack would be watching over his mother. He asks as much aloud now, “Is your mother okay? I would’ve thought you’d be with her.”

Zack lets out an irritated breath, “She’s fine. The medication prescribed to her has drowsy effects so she went to sleep a little while after Mass. Do you think ignoring me is somehow going to make your feelings and mine go away?”

Jason doesn’t answer. 

“You do remember that I’m suppose to be working on your truck soon too, right? And you can’t back out of it unless you want to explain to my mom why you wouldn’t want me to do it.”

“Can you—“ Jason sits up a bit, “couldn’t I leave it at your shop?”

“Not part of company business.”

“I could pay if—”

“There’s something I want to confess.” Zack interrupts. 

Jason stills, “What?”

“A confession.” He hears Zack shuffling close to the grate “I did something that I want you to hear so that I can be liberated and I can say my contrition.”

Jason takes in the silence around them “I—okay.”

He hears Zack clear his throat, “Forgive me father for I have sinned…it’s been a few weeks since my last confession, as you remember. And yesterday night, I spent the night at someone’s house. This person is the one I once confessed about before,” he says in an explanatory tone and Jason bows his head in apprehension. 

“There was one point in his kitchen when I wanted so badly to kiss him, Father, but I wasn’t sure if he would let me even though I could feel him wanting it as much as I must have been. He slept on his couch while I took his bed and…” he hears Zack lick his lips slowly as he pauses, “I thought of him as I lied in his bed. I had borrowed some clothes from him and having his scent around me like that felt so unbearable when I knew he was so close by to me in another room.”  
Jason’s breath deepens, his heart accelerating even as he tries not to picture Zack’s words. “So I’m confessing now that I touched myself that night imagining my hands were his. I kept wondering if his hands over my skin would feel hot or if they'd be so light that it'd make me shiver.”

Jason curses under his breath and winces at himself for having done so, “Zack, please don’t tell me that.”

“But Father, aren’t you here to listen to and absolve me of my sins?”

“What you’re doing isn’t fair.” Jason replies then, his hands clenched around his knees. 

“Why isn’t it fair? Does it make you angry?”

“No.”

“Does it disgust you?”

“No.”

“Does it upset you?”

“Yes.” 

Zack pauses, “Why? Is it because I touched myself while thinking of you or maybe because you wish my hands _had_ been your own instead?”

“We shouldn’t be having this conversation here,” Jason grits out. Realizes that he should have said that they shouldn’t be having it at all.  
What he should say.  
He urges himself to say it now. 

He thinks he hears the door to the sacristy open and close but knows it’s his paranoia. 

“You know, yesterday morning after you came out of the shower and I saw you standing at your bedroom door in that t-shirt and jeans, it took every ounce of strength in me not to pull you down onto your bed with me. Would you have let me if I had?”

Jason swallows audibly, thinks of the alcove to the side of the altar where the candles must be dimming in their own pool of wax. “I don’t know.” he answers. If they weren’t sitting in this confessional, within these sacred walls, he thinks he might have been able to lie.

Zack hums and Christ forgive him, Jason can feel a tightness in his gut from it that has him digging his fingernails into his thighs. 

“Have you been thinking about how it felt when we kissed?”

Jason whispers out a hesitant yes and Zack hums again, “Me too. A lot. I’m thinking of it right now. About how I wish I could kiss you again. Do you think about kissing me again?”

Jason feels laid bare here, consumed by his emotions and the sound of Zack’s voice drifting so easily between them. It was stupid to avoid Zack. He wants to say that Zack had been cruel to come here to confront him, but a small, hidden part inside of himself is glad he isn't letting Jason hide from it. He takes a deep breath and tilts his head back against the cool wall as he feels an exhaustion ripple through him. He can’t fight this if he doesn’t accept the reality of his feelings. “I do,” he concedes, voice slightly steadier than before.

“Do you wish you could kiss me right now?”

Eyes closed, Jason nods his head, “Yes.”

Zack shifts in his seat, “What would you say if I wanted to step outside this side of the booth to walk into yours so I could kiss you?”

With a shaky breath, Jason digs his nails in deeper until he thinks they might leave an indentation on his skin through the fabric. “I would ask you not to do it.”

“But what would you _think_?”

“I would think about how I wish I could tell you yes.”

A silent beat.  
“Okay,” Zack says finally and then it sounds like he let's go of the fight in his body as he sighs, "I'm sorry." He says, voice low.

Jason shakes his head, "Don't be."

A few quiet seconds pass and then Zack speaks again, “Can I sit here with you for a while? I won’t say anything. I just want to sit with you.”

“Yes.” Jason says then, letting himself follow the sounds of Zack breathing beside him as a way to center himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone is ever on a game show and a question comes up about that disorder, you know who to send some of your winnings to.  
> & random add-in but the cousin's name, li-lin, came from the book "the girl with the ghost eyes" which i recommend if anyone is interested. it's a well-researched woc centered story set in an urban historical miyazaki-esk fantasy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had two musical influences when i wrote this chapter: _turandot_ ’s arias “non piangere liù!” & “ah! per l’ultima volta!” combo (this sounds so pretentious, jfc i’m sorry.) and devotchka’s “how it ends”
> 
> that’s me unnecessarily saying where my train of thought was here.

Jason lies awake in his bed. Earlier in the confessional, Zack kept his word and sat quietly beside him for a length of time that Jason hadn’t counted. It was only after what had to be several minutes later that Jason had been the one to speak.  
He told Zack that he needed some time to think about his feelings for him, heard Zack shuffle in his seat when he said that, but added that he needed Zack to understand how and why this thing between them was difficult. 

“Okay,” Zack had said then,"I think this isn't something you should try to deny about yourself, but I get it, really. Just...please don't shut me out like that. Not right now with...I'm just asking you that favor."

He had left then and Jason spent the remainder of his time alone with his thoughts. 

Just as he still is now but in a place Zack had been not so long ago and where, as he told Jason, he had thought of him too.  
He swallows at the image and restrains himself from running his hands over his sheets. 

Tomorrow, Sunday, is typically his laundry day. By then Zack’s scent will be washed away. As will the clothes Zack had borrowed and now sit in Jason’s laundry basket. 

For now, Jason surrounds himself with memories and thoughts. It feels as if all Jason has done for days and weeks has been thinking. But he also may have been lying to himself within the same amount of time too. He’s ashamed to think about all the times he’s told himself to muster the strength to stop this thing between himself and Zack only to fall to weakness hours, minutes—seconds later. If the situation were simpler, he would laugh at himself. 

Zack had said he understood why this was difficult for him, but Jason doesn’t believe he does, not fully. He’s not accusing him, but this whole thing is easier for Zack who hasn’t pledged his love and loyalty to his faith in the way that Jason has. And everything he spent a better part of his life trying to achieve wouldn’t be put in jeopardy over giving in to desires. And that word. _Desire_. It makes Jason’s blood run cold while simultaneously causing his fingers to clench the sheet under him. 

Here in the privacy of his room, he allows himself to give in. Yes, he does desire Zack in a way that’s frightening, exciting, horrifying, and electrifying all at once.

When Zack had told him the way he thought about Jason…and then when they had kissed on his couch. Jason doesn’t know how far and for how long things would have gotten between them if Zack’s phone hadn’t rung when it did, and it’s alarming. 

Jason isn’t unfamiliar or inexperienced with intimacy. When he was younger, when he and his parents still had that dream of his playing football—before the crash where he broke his leg and felt the crushing guilt of his recklessness—he enjoyed everything his youth and looks provided for him. He remembers once at a friend's party where he shared a kiss with a boy, he doesn’t know what his name had been but it had been nice. Of course, _nice_ isn’t how it felt to kiss Zack. That was something else that ran deeper and woke something in Jason that feels impossible to put back to sleep.

But he has a promise to God. And a promise to everyone who turns to Jason for guidance and trust. Zack can’t understand all it would mean to let himself let go. Then again, Jason doesn't even know what it would mean for himself, either.

Jason sighs, lifts one of the pillows from behind himself and breathes in the scent that lingers there. 

**

Jason keeps himself busy over the next few days. By Thursday, he feels as if he has barely gotten a chance to be truly alone with his thoughts, but he’s grateful for it. He’s been so busy with aiding Father Schiff in coordinating the fundraiser with volunteers and tending to his other obligations, that his life has taken a form of autopilot. 

This isn’t to say that he hasn’t thought about Zack—he has. It seems impossible not to and he’s barely managed to keep from driving out to see if he can spot the repair shop in town. Why? He doesn't know and won't let himself find out. 

Jason hasn’t tried to lie to himself by saying that he’s strong enough to put an end to whatever it is that has been building between them. Of course, that doesn’t mean he isn’t still trying. It’s easier said than done when he doesn’t see Zack and he subconsciously counts down the days until he’s sure to see him on Saturday. 

He also wonders whether Zack might show up to Church unexpectedly like he did before. And Jason doesn’t want to think too hard on whether he’s really wondering it or if he’s dreading the possibility. Maybe hoping for it. 

**

After Jason has showered and walks into his kitchen, he opens his cupboard, refrigerator, and pantry. He’s long past needing to buy groceries. 

After putting on a pair of simple black pants and clerical shirt—without the collar, Jason steps outside to his car and drives into town. 

On his way to the town supermarket, he catches sight of a corner market with fresh fruit stands and painted signs outside the door. With a pensive tap to his steering wheel, he turns the corner to enter the small attached parking lot. 

When he steps inside the door, a bell rings overhead and he hears the sound of a friendly voice welcoming him from behind a pile of potato sacks. Greeting back, Jason steps in and watches as an older man with warm dark skin and friendly eyes steps away from the stack and combs his near white hair back neatly with his hand. “Ah, a new face! So glad you have chosen to step in this lovely morning. My name is Ranveer Kapoor, humble shop owner and classic film enthusiast. If it’s movie recommendations or top quality groceries you want, you have come to the right place. Anything I could help you with?”

Jason laughs, “So you are the famed Mr. Kapoor I’ve heard about! I’m honored to meet you and thank you for the welcome, my name is Jason Scott. I may take you up on the movie recommendation offer another time but for now, I’m just here to do some simple grocery shopping.”

Mr. Kapoor raises his eyebrows, “Well, I’m pleased to know my name has become synonymous with good things! Uh, what may I attribute this fame of mine to?”

“A… friend once shared some of your products and—“

“Father Scott?” a familiar voice says from what sounds like the register. The question is followed by short footsteps.

“Mrs. Taylor?” Jason asks in reply.

“Father?” Mr. Kapoor adds, noticing Jason’s clerical shirt for the first time.

“This is Father Scott. I tell you about him.” Mrs. Taylor says to Mr. Kapoor once she reaches them.

“How wonderful!” Mr. Kapoor claps “I can now say I have also heard great things of the famed handsome Father Scott.”

Jason feels his cheeks pink, ignoring the cheeky grin from Mrs. Taylor. He sees the smock tied around Mrs. Taylor’s middle, similar to the one Mr. Kapoor is wearing and remembers the mentions of her working here from Zack and herself “Have you started working here now?”

“Yes, today my second day and I tell Mr. Kapoor his shop already look more neat since I came here.” She gestures to a nearly stacked rack of magazines and daily newspapers by the door.

“She has certainly been most invaluable.” Mr. Kapoor says, amused. 

“I’m sure of it,” Jason says and then hesitates as he turns back to Mrs. Taylor, “uh, I really don’t want to be rude, Mrs. Taylor, but is it wise for you to be starting work so soon, I mean…” he glances at Mr. Kapoor, unsure whether he’s familiar with Mrs. Taylor’s situation.

She waves him off with a tsk, “Ah, Mr. Kapoor know about what doctor said.” she sighs, “You are just like my son. I tell him I already take medication and I am fine. I am not picking heavy things up and uh…” she trails off trying to think of a word. Mr. Kapoor scrunches his face in thought, “straining?” he suggests.

“Aha! Yes, I am not straining. I just keep store neat and do cash register.”

Mr. Kapoor nods, “I assure you, Father Scott that I am making sure she does not lift watermelon crates behind my back,” he leans in with a whisper, “but you’d be surprised to know that she’s tried once already.”

Jason bites his lip in a smile, “I believe it.”

Mrs. Taylor rolls her eyes, “Okay, okay, you shop now, Father Scott. I must go to customer.” She walks to a woman placing her basket at the register.  
“And I must go play bag boy” Mr. Kapoor says, “Please, feel welcomed to look around and if you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask.”

With that, Jason stands alone by a display of spices and goes to grab a basket. 

He pauses every once in a while over a selection of products on the shelves. He’s never been much of a cook apart from the occasional outdoor grilling, so he finds himself unfortunately skipping over a few things that smell or look good but he’d be lost on using once in his kitchen.  
It isn’t until he finds his basket piled high that he wonders whether he should have opted for a cart instead of a basket. 

Deciding he’ll just have to make another trip soon, he takes his groceries to the counter where Mrs. Taylor is staring at a display behind the register, back to the counter and hands fisted on his hips. “One moment,” she calls over her shoulder when Jason sets his things down.  
A few seconds pass before Jason watches her move a stack of small boxes with words in a language Jason is unfamiliar with beside a different stack. With a satisfied nod, she turns back to the counter, “Is this all for today?”

Jason nods but then stops, “Well, actually, I was looking at the shelves of teas and I’ve never really been much of a tea drinker but I wondered if there was one you’d recommend.”

Mrs. Taylor’s face lights and she holds a finger out, “One moment,” she says again as she shuffles away past the counter towards the aisles.

Jason has barely had a chance to glance at the counter displays when he sees her come back with a small tin in her hands. She places it down once she gets back behind the register, “This one. You will like it, it is my Zack’s favorite.”

He bites the inside of his cheek, unsure how to take that implication. 

When he sees Mr. Kapoor walking towards them, grocery bags in hand, Jason smiles and nods. He wants to ask why she wouldn’t think he’d like her favorite and half-wonders if Zack mentioned sharing some with him, but decides to just accept it, “I’m sure any choice of yours would be wonderful.”

“Good answer.” Mr. Kapoor laughs, packing each grocery in a bag when Mrs. Taylor scans the item.

By the time Jason’s groceries are packed in bags, Mrs. Taylor is about to hand Jason his change when she hesitates. Jason looks up and sees her appraising him “When you coming to dinner?”

“Um.” is Jason’s response.

“Do not think I have forgotten my invitation and now it is more important so I may thank you for your help.”

“Really, Mrs. Taylor, there’s no need for you to have to thank—“

“Please do not offend me, you will accept dinner.” She fists the change in her hand as she crosses her arms over his chest. Mr. Kapoor, when Jason glances at him, looks on amused; an outsider’s pattern that Jason is beginning to notice when they’re confronted with someone trying to argue with Mrs. Taylor.

“Oh!” Jason says, “Well no, I’m not trying to offend you, I just…” There isn’t going to be anything he can say, he knows it. With a sigh and a smile, he nods, “Okay, of course I will accept your invitation, Mrs. Taylor.”

She nods once and uncrosses her arms, “Good, you come tomorrow evening.”

 _So soon?_ Jason wants to ask but he knows better than to say it aloud. “Uh, yes, okay, sure. Should I bring anything?” he asks instead.

“No no, it is dinner for you. Just do not be late. 6 o’clock.”

Jason hears another customer stepping behind him in line and decides to leave it at that. “Of course. I’m looking forward to it.”  
He grabs his bags and begins to protest when Mr. Kapoor offers to help him take them to his car, but relents when he sees him walking away with a bag down an aisle. Glancing over at Mrs. Taylor, he sees her greeting the next customer after she sends Jason a small smile and nod.

When he reaches the entrance, Mr. Kapoor is standing just outside the store “Lead the way” he says.

By the time they reach Jason’s car and have placed the bags in his trunk, Mr. Kapoor thrusts a small bag at Jason which he barely manages to catch. When he looks down at it, he sees the print of a white rabbit and small wrapped pieces of candy visible in the bag. “Those are her favorite. Take them with you to the dinner and you’re sure to win her over,” he laughs, “though I doubt you need to since she seems to be smitten with you.”

Jason doesn’t know how to reply to that besides a shy smile, “Thank you, I—“ he begins to pull out his wallet but Mr. Kapoor stops him “No, please, it is a gift and a thank you for shopping here today with a hopes that you will return.”

With a fuller smile, Jason nods, “I will definitely be coming back, thank you again.”

With an answering nod, Mr. Kapoor takes a step back towards the store, “Enjoy the food and the rest of your week. I must return to make sure she hasn’t taken to operating the backroom stock forklift.” 

**

It isn’t until Jason has packed away his groceries that he really thinks about the fact that he’s agreed to eat dinner with not just Mrs. Taylor, but Zack. 

He’s beginning to wonder that if God isn’t spiteful, He is meticulous in His testing of Jason. Or He has an interesting sense of humor. Jason isn’t sure which option is worse or better.

**

By the time he does his afternoon Church duties and goes home, Jason finds himself doing his nightly prayers with the familiar and grounding weight of his rosary in hand. “Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation—” he stops then, eyes still closed as a passing image of Zack blinks into his consciousness. 

With a frustrated sigh, he attempts to concentrate again and pictures the Church, the altar, the alcove where the Virgin Mary stands. Remembers the flowers at her feet and the candles. Those candles that he still is tempted to dip his finger into in order to feel the warmth of the wax. He clenches his fingers against the beads in his hand for a moment, “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women; And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus; Holy Mary, Mother of God; Pray for us sinners, now at the house of our death. Amen.”

**

Jason steps into his kitchen with a yawn, clothes still warm against his skin from his bed and blankets. He shakes some coffee grounds into his coffee maker and brings down a mug from his cabinet and then stretches his arms with another yawn as he waits for the the drip of the coffee. 

Just as the machine has come alive, he hears his doorbell ring. With a glance at the early time, Jason frowns and walks to the door. 

His stomach drops at the same time that he feels a jolt down his spine when he finds Zack standing on his doorstep. 

“You going to let me in?” Zack asks after an awkward handful of seconds later.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Jason steps back to let Zack step inside. It’s then that he notices Zack carrying what looks like a toolbox in his hand.

Zack turns around to face Jason when he closes the door behind them, carefully peeking outside as if he’s expecting someone to be out there with a camera pointed at his door. 

“So my mom told me you’re coming to dinner later.”

Jason clears his throat, nods.

“Nice, she’s been waiting for that. Anyway, I reminded my mom that you probably don’t even know where we live.”

At that, Jason blinks, “Oh, right.”

Zack snorts and shakes his head, “Yeah, figured you’d forget that detail. My mom was trying to work out how to let you know, and I let it slip that I knew where you lived.” At Jason’s wide eyes, Zack continues, “because I told her we discussed my coming to check out your truck while we were at the hospital.” he lifts the toolbox in his hand “And so here I am.”

“Ah.” 

“Where’s your truck?” Zack continues.

Still trying to process that Zack just showed up at his house, Jason listens to the sound of his coffee maker bubbling and at Zack’s expectant look, he shakes his head momentarily, “It’s uh… it’s out back.”  
He walks over to a door just to the side of the living room and leads them outside to the backyard. 

After stepping on a sharp rock, he berates himself for walking outside barefoot. He hasn’t had a chance to do anything in the backyard. It’s fairly big. The side gate was in good shape and big enough to push his truck through under the wooden awning; other than that, the yard is nothing but unkept and dried patches of grass, dirt, and some patio chairs that the previous owners left behind.  
Zack doesn’t comment on any of it though, he just spots the truck and makes his way over, the gravel crunching under his boots. 

And then Jason is noticing that Zack has on a black threadbare button-up and well-worn jeans with half-faded oil stains. Almost as if he could sense it, Zack turns his head to Jason, “I got work a little over an hour from now so I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone and all that by finally taking a look at your truck while I came by to give you directions to the house—remind me to write that down for you before I leave if I forget.” he reaches the hood of the truck, tapping his palm against the frame “Mind popping the hood for me?”

Jason nods and opens the driver side door. He pulls the handle until he hears the pop followed by Zack lifting the hood up. He grabs the keys he left on the seat and jingles them as he pulls out of the door, “Do you want me to try to turn it on?”

Zack’s face leans out from inside the open hood, “Did you seriously leave your keys inside the truck unlocked?”

“It’s not like anyone could’ve taken off with it. I had to have Father Schiff help me push it in back here when it died on me.”

“Well, I guess you got me there. But yeah, let’s see what I’m working with here.”

Jason steps into the truck, tracking dirt from his feet inside and slips the key into the ignition and turns. Nothing happens.  
“Press the brakes and try again,” Zack calls out. Jason does as he says and this time he hears the scratching and half-hearted attempt of the engine to stir. 

“Now try to press the gas when you do it.”

When he does it this time, the engine turns once, coming alive for all of two seconds before it turns off. He watches Zack pull away and hunch down to his toolbox then. He’s not sure if he should step out but decides to stay in if Zack needs him to do it again. He sees Zack pull out a flathead screwdriver and lean back into the open compartment, making quick work of something inside. 

Jason takes a second to stare at him from the small space he can see of him from behind the wheel. 

He hasn’t seen him, let alone spoken to him, since that night in the confessional where he had asked him for time.  
Jason _has_ taken this time to think about things, but maybe not enough. 

Looking at Zack now, Jason feels that fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach and an itch in his hand to run his thumb over the sharp cheekbone on Zack’s face. The guilt that usually accompanies those thoughts ebb in, but—and maybe this is because Jason hasn’t even had his cup of coffee or his shower yet—the guilt isn’t as strong as the warm feeling enveloping Jason just watching Zack’s look of concentration as he works. 

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when Zack looks up then and places both hands on the lip of the hood, “Can you crank the engine again?”

“Sure,” Jason replies, doing just that. He watches Zack stare down at something when he does it and then he’s nodding, lips pursed and holds his hand up, “Okay.”  
With a sigh, Zack pulls back and takes something in hand before he reaches up to close the lid. 

Jason takes the key out of the ignition then and drops the keys back on the seat when he steps out. Zack takes out a small, thin rag from his pocket and wipes his hands, “So, we’re not getting a spark which could mean a number of things like a weak battery, problem with your points—that is, your contact breaker, maybe the coils…” he trails off and shrugs a long breath, “nothing that can’t be fixed. For now, I’m going to see if we have any spare spark plugs that’ll fit your truck,” he waves the one he took from the truck in his hand before pocketing it, “and then we’ll work from there.”

“Okay,” Jason nods, then clears his throat unnecessarily, “Uh, actually, I know this was all part of the deal with Mrs. Taylor but honestly, it’s not necessary for you to fix the truck. I mean, I can take it to a shop myself and it’s not like I need it or anything…”

Zack, for his part, just rolls his eyes, “It’s funny and cute that you still try.” Zack lifts his toolbox then and starts walking back inside. Jason follows behind. 

When they get back inside, Jason wipes his feet on the decorative mat he didn’t even remember putting by the door and closes it behind him. 

“So you got a piece of paper I can write directions on?”

“Yeah, let me grab one for you.” Jason says as Zack puts his box on the kitchen counter. He pulls out a notepad from a nearby drawer and clicks a pen open as he hands it to him. 

Zack takes the pen and paper and starts writing out directions. After a few seconds, he taps his index finger on the paper pensively and then writes something else. He spins the paper on his finger and slides it over to Jason, “There you go. I put my cell number there too in case you get lost or something.”

Jason doesn’t say anything but he smiles a nod and then stops when he notices Zack grab his toolbox and call over his shoulder as he takes a few steps towards the door, “Okay, well I’ll see you later then.”

“Wait.” 

Jason bites his lip into his mouth, unsure why that came out; but when he sees Zack hesitating, halfway towards the door, Jason nervously scratches the back of his neck, “Do you uh… I mean, would you like a cup of coffee or something before you go? Or um, tea?” 

Zack doesn’t move and he looks at Jason like he’s not sure whether he heard him right either, but then his face relaxes carefully. He looks down at his wristwatch and places his toolbox down onto the dining table, “Okay…sure, it’s still pretty early.”

Jason nods, “Good—or uh, all right, so,” he feels a blush starting up his neck and wills it to stop, “Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee is fine,” Zack says around a small smile, watching as Jason sets into motion in grabbing another mug from his cupboard, “Sugar, milk?” 

“A little of both.”

Jason turns to the fridge, pulling out his milk carton, “This okay?” At Zack’s nod, he opens a drawer and pulls out a spoon.

“So since when do you carry tea now?” Zack asks, leaning against the opposite side of the counter from Jason.

Jason looks up from his pouring, “Oh, uh, since yesterday? When I ran into your mother and met Mr. Kapoor.”

“Hmm.”

He decides not to mention the fact that she had him buy what is apparently Zack’s favorite blend and glad that he won't have to, as he hands Zack the mug of coffee.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

He watches Zack take an experimental sip as he pours his own coffee, feeling nervous suddenly. “So,” he begins, after he notes the small satisfied smile Zack does after his taste. “How is your mother doing?”

“She’s doing all right.” He takes another sip of coffee and then sets it down, “She’s usually weaker and stiffer in the muscles in the mornings but after she takes the medication, she gets better. I called around to schedule her in for one of those acupuncture things like the doctor mentioned. Hoping that helps more until the treatment starts.”

“I'm glad to hear it.” He takes a drink of his own coffee then and looks down at the cup between his hands, “What about you, how are you doing?” he looks up and catches Zack’s eyes, “Since this whole thing with your mom,” he clarifies and then mentally rolls his eyes at himself for it. 

Zack taps the short nail of his finger against his mug rhythmically, “All right, I guess” he shrugs, drinks his coffee, “I mean, it doesn’t help either of us to be worrying about this and between work and now having your truck to work on, it helps to have something to focus on besides everything with her and with—“ his eyes jump to and away from Jason’s then “Just, yeah, pretty good, all things considered.”

Jason doesn’t say anything then and Zack doesn’t either. 

They drink their coffee in silence for a few seconds and then Jason sees Zack sigh, “I should probably go.” 

Jason sets his cup down, that feeling of strange disappointment that he had earlier when Zack was going to leave shooting back up again, “You sure you don’t want more coffee? Or have you eaten? I can make something if you skipped breakfast to get here and—“

“Jason.”

He stops, watches Zack shake his head in confusion and open his mouth before closing it again. With a quick, deep breath, Zack stops and looks at him, “Listen, I… you told me last week that you wanted time to think. I know this dinner thing probably isn’t something you wanted right now, nor my coming here this morning. I—I admit that was a little bit of a self-interest on my part, but…” he lets out another deep breath through his nose and Jason sees him sagging a little in on himself, “what are you trying to do right now?”

Jason looks down at the countertop between them, head hanging down. He could say that he’s just trying to be friendly in a common courtesy way of thanking Zack for dropping by, but he knows that’s not it. He sighs. “I don’t know.”

“Well I guess that makes two of us.” Zack snaps back. 

Jason lifts a hand to his face, pressing his thumb and index against each eye, “I’m sorry.”

He hears Zack step away from the side of the counter and feels him approach to his end. 

Jason doesn’t move. 

Zack stands silently beside him before cautiously lifting his hand to rest against Jason’s cheek, carefully guiding Jason to drop his hand and lift his head away to face him. Jason swallows lightly, eyes still closed as he picks his hand back up and gently sets it over Zack’s on his face. 

This close, Jason can make out the scent of oil that still lingers on Zack’s hand and something about that has him squeezing the hand underneath his just a fraction as he opens his eyes. He gives Zack a small smile that Zack slowly returns.

He sees Zack searching his face again. He’s been looking for something in him that even Jason finds himself wishing he finds. 

“You’ve got some stubble starting to grow out,” Zack says, running his fingers lightly down Jason’s cheek and jaw, bringing Jason’s hand along with his. 

Jason clears his throat, feels his skin hyperaware by the touch, “I haven’t had a chance to shave yet.” he confesses.

“Hmm.” Zack pulls his hand away as Jason let’s go and drops it to his side, “Not gonna lie, I would love to see you grow a beard out, but since you’re coming to dinner later, you don’t want to get an earful from my mom about proper grooming.”

“I was going to do it before I went—“

Zack interrupts him by grabbing his hand and pulls him down towards the hallway and to the bathroom door.

He doesn’t let go until they’re inside and Zack is stepping towards the sink against the wall, and then to the mirrored medicine cabinet above it. He grabs Jason’s razor and a small bottle of shaving gel beside it and sets it down on the sink counter before he washes his hands with soap and water.  
“Come on,” Zack says, turning to Jason and nudging his head.

“Um.”

Zack sighs, leans forward to grab Jason’s hand again with his still wet hands and positions him, back to the sink, facing Zack in front of him. 

“I promise I’m going to shave later...” Jason says, somehow only now realizing what they’re doing there.

“You might miss a spot. Now come on,” he steps back “splash some water on your face.”

Jason wants to protest again but feels it’s reflexive more than anything else, so he turns around in the space between them and turns on the faucet, cupping water in his hands to lift up to his face. When he looks up into his reflection, he sees Zack reaching over to take the shaving cream can in his hand.

When he turns around, Zack is dispensing some of the gel onto his fingers. He looks to Jason, catching his eyes briefly as he rubs his hands together and reaches over to drag his fingers and foam down from his ears to the underside of his jaw. It feels more intimate in the quiet and small bathroom. Jason imagines that from an outside perspective it looks it even more.  
Zack carefully runs his finger below Jason’s bottom lip, his eyes following the motion and then uses his other hand to do the same around the bow of his lips. 

With a quick sidestep, Zack washes his hands clean, leaving the faucet running a fraction amount and wipes his hands on a towel. When he steps back in position, he has Jason’s shaving razor in hand. Jason’s eyes track Zack’s face as he presses the razor lightly against Jason’s cheek and drags it down slightly angled before this time leaning forward against Jason’s chest to reach behind him to the running water. Zack doesn’t look at him as he repeats the shave down the rest of Jason’s cheek. 

For his part, Jason can’t help noticing that his breath is coming a little deeper than he wishes it were. When Zack uses his free hand to angle Jason’s face to the side to shave down the other cheek, he knows Zack must be able to hear him. 

After the repetitive motion of the razor and Zack’s fingers directing his face along with the press of his chest every time he reaches to the faucet, Jason is starting to feel overwhelmed. Like most moments with Zack, he’s a little unsure of how he got to where he is, but he’s trying very hard to keep his hands flat at his sides, useless where they sit, but at a safer place. 

And then Zack is tilting Jason’s head back, slowly dragging the razor down and Jason pinches his eyes shut for a second knowing that Zack saw him swallow nervously. This time when Zack leans against him to rinse the razor, Jason clenches his fist at his side. It’s too much. The weight and touch and proximity is pulling at his gut and he’s terrified that Zack is going to feel just how he’s affecting him soon if he presses just a little closer against his hips. 

In this moment especially, Jason finds himself feeling too ashamed at how responsive his body is feeling to even ask for spiritual guidance. 

And then it happens. 

Zack does one last careful drag, punctuating it by a murmured “there” before he leans forward again, a little farther than before and Jason swallows the low whine in his throat when he feels the press of Zack’s thigh against him. 

He senses Zack freeze against him, body still pressed closely, and feels the barely there experimental press of his thigh as if he’s trying to confirm that yes, Jason got aroused just from this. Jason doesn’t dare move and is a little surprised when he hears Zack clear his throat before pulling back a little to grab the face towel and run it under the water before turning the faucet off. 

He takes another step back, keeping his eyes on Jason’s jaw as he wipes his face clean with one hand while the other settles on the side of his face again to guide. When he runs the towel over Jason’s chin, Zack skims the tips of his fingers over Jason’s lips and stops when Jason instinctively licks his bottom lip into his mouth. And then Jason is digging his nails into the cotton material of his pants at the glazed look he sees in Zack’s eyes and suddenly he feels something terrifying surfacing up his body then.

“Zack,” Jason says then, quiet but firm.

“Hm?” Zack’s eyes lift up and lock on his after a moment.

Jason swallows against a dryness in his throat. “I need to ask—I need to know…do you want me because you’re attracted to me, because of who—what—I am? Is that what this is?”

Zack shifts his head back a little then, the cloud clearing a bit and replaced by a half-formed look of indignation between his brows as he silently searches Jason’s face.  
After a couple of seconds, his face smooths before he takes a deep breath, “I’m not attracted to you because you’re a priest, Jason.” 

He takes another breath, his hand on Jason’s face curving against the base of his head. ”I won’t lie and say I don’t like listening and watching you during Mass, but it’s because I like watching how comfortable and dedicated you look. The way you impassion people and bring them hope and happiness. How my mom—and really, now is not the moment I want to be thinking about my mom, but you inspire her to find peace. And that’s what first got my attention.” He smirks, if a little shaken, then, “Not to say that I didn’t think you were hot the first time I saw you, that much was very obvious.”

Jason feels a blush on his cheeks that he tries and fails to stop.

Zack sighs, relaxes his hand, “And I won’t also lie about admitting that a part of me wishes you weren’t a priest so all of this could be easier. But that’s a selfish part of me. The other part that is grateful for everything you do for people and my mom, wishes I never met you so we wouldn’t be in this mess. The selfish part doesn't want me to be the bigger person even with knowing all of that.”  
He shakes his head and closes his eyes briefly, “I’ve never claimed to be a good person, Jason, and I could find plenty of people who would point out that you don’t deserve what I’ve put you through or that I even deserve you, but,” he opens his eyes again, “I know that I want you in any way I can have no matter how greedy I sound.”

Jason drops his gaze to the buttons of Zack’s shirt and sighs deeply. He lifts his eyes to look at Zack’s chin after a second and then he’s lifting his hand that feels tense for how hard it had been clenched, up to palm the side of Zack’s face. 

He let’s his thumb swipe slowly over the cheekbone like he itched to do earlier, “You’re not the only one with a selfish part inside of you. Mine gets stronger every time I see you. And right now...I don't know how to keep it in. Or if I want to.” he whispers. This time when his eyes lock on Zack’s, he leans forward, barely catches Zack doing the same before he feels the press of their lips against each other. It’s soft but the sound it makes in the quiet room sounds loud to Jason’s ears and something about that sends a thrill down his spine.  
When he presses them together again, it’s firmer but slower. His eyes reflectively begin to close at the sensation but then Zack is pulling back and he opens them again, questioning. 

“Are you going to regret this again and try to ignore me?”

Jason licks his lips, watches Zack track the movement, “Zack, I—I don’t regret anything with you,” his throat clicks when he swallows, “My regrets are a guilt that have nothing to do with you, it's with me.”

Zack shakes his head, “Knowing that you’re always going to guilt yourself over this isn’t any better.”

“I know,” Jason grimaces slightly in acknowledgement and lets out a tired breath.

“Does…” Zack leans forward again, “this feel wrong to you?” he says before pressing a chaste kiss against Jason’s mouth at the same time that he runs his blunt fingernails down his neck.

Jason feels a ripple of warmth down his body at that and he sighs, “It doesn’t.”

“Then why would you feel guilt over it?”

“I’m—“ Jason shakes his head minutely to clear his head from the cloud he’s gone into. “It’s not so simple.” His own hand on Zack’s face feels warm as he slides it down to the crease of Zack’s neck, “I made a promise to God and I’d be betraying him and everyone who trusts in me.”

“Would you care about people less? Not want to help them if they came to you? You’re not defined by any one thing, Jason. You say this isn’t about me, but you have to realize that your guilting yourself is as good as saying that feeling what you do about me is bad.”

“That’s not fair, Zack, you know the circumstances—"

“The circumstances can’t change your feelings. You’re human and people aren’t putting their trust in you because they just assume you’re in some constant state of saintliness, they do it because they know you’re there to listen and you’re a good person no matter what. Everyone feels like they can talk to you—I know, I hear what people say about you. If you haven’t noticed that by now, it’s because you’re not letting yourself see it.”

Jason’s gaze casts down to his hand on Zack’s neck, tracking the movement of his thumb settled against his jawline, swiping back and forth. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know how to argue with Zack and he doesn’t want to. 

“What do you want, Jason?” Zack whispers. He brings his other hand up to sit above Jason’s heartbeat—a touch that reminds Jason of the first time he and Zack were this close. It feels so long ago but it can’t have been more than a month or two ago. “Do you want me to leave you alone? To just be a part of your congregate you see every Saturday evening and occasional Church function? Come to your confessional once every handful of months so you can absolve my sins and pretend you don’t know I’m the one just on the other side of the booth? Would that make everything easier for you?”

Jason’s thumb stills. He imagines that world. Imagines coming home every day, alone in his house; imagines the ache he’d feel in seeing Zack laugh and joke with others, but never with Jason. It would be easier, he thinks, at least for a short while. But eventually, that loneliness that Jason hadn’t noticed he was living in until he had Zack come into his life—no matter how terrifying it’s been—would be back. “No,” he says then. He doesn’t look up. “That’s not what I want.”

He hears Zack wet his lips, “Then I’ll ask again, what do you want, Jason? Not what you wish you could have and use to feed your guilt. Just what do you feel inside that you want because it’s worth wanting.”

Jason closes his eyes briefly, thinks of everyone he’s met since he became a priest and somehow surprised him time and again with their trust and esteem in who he was rather than what he was. And Zack who is a ball of energy that has been consuming Jason since the moment they first met, but has already given him so much at the same time.  
“You,” he says then. He lifts his eyes, “I want you in my life—in and outside of the Church. I want you here where I can feel the heat of your skin against my fingers.” He stops then, swallows the rest of what wants to come out because he’s afraid of how he’d be able to stop if he doesn’t now, however tearfully sentimental it sounds. 

Zack doesn’t reply and just when Jason begins to worry and panic, Zack whines low in his throat and uses the hand against the back of Jason’s head to pull him forward, crushing their lips together again. Jason is surprised for all of two seconds before he finds himself responding back, the kiss rougher than before, but it feels right. 

He can feel their kiss light up his senses down to his toes. Zack presses his hip closer to Jason's and takes advantage of his gasp to lick into his mouth, forcing Jason to suppress a shiver. 

Zack’s mouth moves against Jason’s like he’s trying to savor it. Maybe he still expects Jason to pull away, to say it’s not what he wants after all, but Jason tries to show him that it’s the last thing he’s planning on doing right now by threading his fingers through the hair above Zack’s nape, earning himself a small moan from Zack that sends electricity down Jason’s body. 

And then Zack is dragging the hand on Jason’s chest down, his fingers skating down in the space between them, his tongue velvet smooth against Jason’s. 

It isn’t until he feels Zack’s fingers brushing at the elastic waistband of Jason’s pants that he realizes what Zack is about to do. 

Jason reigns in some willpower to slowly break their kiss, his breath heaving in and out when Zack’s fingers curve into the line of his pants, “Zack,” he gasps.

Zack presses a kiss against Jason’s jawline, trailing the bone up to capture his earlobe, “Hm?”

Jason gasps again at the sensation and nearly bucks when Zack’s hand has reached down further and his fingers leave a feather light touch on the sensitive skin of Jason’s cock. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Zack asks, punctuating the question by sucking a kiss to another sensitive area behind Jason’s ear. 

Jason can’t think. Doesn’t even think he could talk again if he wanted to right now. Zack and everything he's been in Jason's life has been inevitable, he knows that now. With shaky breath, Jason clenches his fingers in Zack’s hair and finds himself shaking his head.

That seems to be all it takes before Zack pulls his hand out, and Jason watches him lick a thick stripe down his palm. It’s so quick that Jason has barely registered it before he feels Zack wrap his hand around him and he gasps, his free hand scrambling to hold onto the sink’s counter behind him for purchase. 

It feels like every nerve in his body is reacting to the slow motion of Zack’s hand around him and to the spot behind his ear that Zack has gone back to. 

It isn’t long before Zack is smoothing out Jason’s precome to pick up the speed and tightness of his fist. Jason feels like he’s going to choke from trying to suppress his moans, but when he feels Zack’s thumb swipe over his tip, he lets the sound escape. And that has Zack sliding his mouth back against Jason’s. Their eyes connect and Zack twists his hand between them, causing Jason to moan again. It sounds so obscene to Jason’s ears that he can’t help digging his fingers against Zack’s scalp to kiss him again. It’s messy now and Jason keeps having to pull away to pant against Zack’s moans. 

It’s too much all at once. 

“How does this feel?” Zack whispers, pulling back when Jason tries to kiss him again. His eyes are dark as they stare into Jason’s, and it has him biting his lip to the point of pain. 

“Good.” he gasps.

“Yeah?”

Jason nods, finally managing to capture Zack’s lips again. He feels like he’s going to burst and that the only thing keeping him grounded is Zack’s lips and hands. 

He pulls back enough when he begins losing sense of the rest of his body, “I think I’m going to—” he mutters, cutting off when Zack moans and presses a hard kiss against his lips before pulling back himself, “Yeah,” he nods, “Let me see you, please.” 

It might have been Zack asking or the way his hand seemed to squeeze around him when it picked up speed, but Jason comes with a cry then, his eyes falling tightly shut.

He’s trembling as Zack’s hand continues, slowly coming to a stop just before Jason becomes too sensitive. 

Jason’s eyes open just as he watches Zack, eyes locked on his, suck his thumb clean with a pop and self-satisfied smirk. He has to tighten his grip on the porcelain sink bowl to keep himself from buckling onto the floor from that. Zack lifts his index finger then and Jason can feel the small smear of come Zack places on his lips before the finger is replaced by Zack’s mouth.  
Jason kisses back by instinct, inhaling sharply through his nose when he tastes the foreign tang mixed in by the taste that he’s coming to know as Zack’s. 

The kiss softens until Jason wonders if his lips are going numb from the overstimulation. 

When Zack finally pulls away, they’re both breathing hard and Jason’s eyes fall to the bulge in the front of Zack’s pants. He’s about to say something when Zack beats him to it, “I should get going.”

Jason licks his lips and glances up, surprised, “Don’t you want me to—I mean, shouldn’t I…” he gestures vaguely down Zack’s pants. 

“Oh, I definitely want you to,” Zack smirks, “but I really have to get to work or else I’ll have to work later than I would have, and I won’t make it home to help my mom before she starts complaining that I’ve left her to do all the work.” he shrugs, slowly, comfortable, “Let’s just say you owe me one.”

He leans forward again, placing a light, lingering kiss on Jason’s lips, “Don’t be late tonight.”

Jason watches Zack leave then, picks out the sound of Zack grabbing the toolbox he brought and car keys before walking out the front door.

When Jason is once again met with silence, he looks down at his tugged down pants. Dampening a hand towel, he wipes his stomach clean and arranges himself back in. When he turns around to face the mirror, he runs a hand down his face, feeling the soft lingering burn of the close shave. His lips look red and swollen and he gingerly runs the tips of his fingers over them and then stares at the small smile he sees in his reflection. 

The guilt and shame simmers on the edge of his senses and the reality of having done something he can’t undo pulses down his spine.

He turns his head to where his prayer room sits across the hall.

 _He is truly damned now_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please know that i tried to resist as much as i could, but we were over 20k into this anyway; let me live, i rated this explicit for a reason.


	6. Chapter 6

5:35PM

Jason glances down at the scrawl of Zack’s writing on the paper he left him earlier and turns into a narrow street. 

When he looks at the clock, he sees he’s going to be early and isn’t sure whether that will be a good thing or not. His body feels light despite the near half hour he spent praying after he stepped out of his shower earlier. 

He didn’t let the feeling of guilt or shame settle, at least. He didn’t regret what happened between Zack and himself, and he couldn’t betray Zack by adding guilt to the prayers. When he prayed, he asked God to forgive him for breaking his state of grace and sought hope that he would still be worthy of the requirements of sanctity. Jason didn’t kid himself in thinking that such a simple prayer would or should be enough, but he was still unsure what to do about all of this. He still toyed with the idea of undergoing confession at a nearby town, through he questioned how fruitful that would be.

Another turn into another street, and Jason slowly drives down the empty neighborhood. The houses are modest and well-lived in—some have dirt and shrubs instead of grass, one has bare tree with a hanging tire swing, and another is littered with kids toys and a few tipped over garden gnomes. There’s a scattering of mobile homes that look a fraction smaller than the houses, but just as lived-in. 

Jason looks down at the street number Zack wrote down as he scans each passing property until he finds the match. A tingling feeling dots his chest when he sees Zack’s car parked outside. After finding a parking spot, he turns off his engine and pulls down his driver mirror to make sure he hasn’t somehow sprouted something on his face. He feels nervous for a number of reasons, but he takes a deep breath and unbuckles his seatbelt and grabs the bag of candy on the passenger seat before stepping out. 

Before Jason knocks on the door, he gives a thought to wondering whether he should have also brought flowers. 

He hesitantly knocks once after arguing with himself in thinking that it might come off like a boyfriend going over to his significant other’s house for dinner if he brought flowers. Jason’s hand stills halfway to another knock at that because isn’t that sort of what this is? It doesn’t seem right to call Zack his boyfriend or Jason his when everything has pretty much all just happened without warning. Boyfriend sounds so official, so public—something Jason doesn’t think would be synonymous with his position in the Church, but this thing between Zack and himself _is_ something. 

Just then, Jason is startled by the door opening, his hand still raised. 

“I told my mom I thought I heard a knock.”

Jason lowers his hand quickly, takes in Zack’s clean black button-up and dark fitted jeans and sees Zack look him over too—catches the way his eyes linger on the collar of his clerical shirt. 

“Hi,” Zack says then, smile warm.

“Hi.” Jason replies a little sheepishly.

“Come in,” Zack steps back and Jason walks in, his arm grazing against Zack’s chest on his way in that leaves a trail of goosebumps down his arm and he thanks his long sleeve for concealing it.

He hears a voice call out from somewhere inside, Jason can’t understand what’s said, but it sounds like a question. Zack walks past him as he answers back in English, “It was Father Scott, Mama.” 

The sound of a plate being set on a table rings out before Jason makes out the sound of hurried footsteps. Mrs. Taylor walks around a cornered entryway, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel that she stuffs into the pocket of an apron she’s wearing. “Father Scott! Thank you for coming, and early!”

“I hope that I didn’t come _too_ early,” he begins, and then stops when she waves at him.

“No no, good timing, food is done and me and Zack were setting table; please, come in,” She turns to Zack, “And Zack, please finish setting table as I greet Father Scott.”

Zack nods once and walks back towards where Mrs. Taylor came from.

Before Jason takes another step in, it’s then that he notices the line of shoes by the entrance and hesitates before bending down to untie his own and carefully sets them aside. When he looks back up, Mrs. Taylor is smiling at him, “I am very happy you came, Father Scott.”

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Taylor,” his fingers bend around the bag in his hand and he’s reminded of the candies, “Oh, right,” he stretches his hand out, offering her the bag, “I hope this is all right for me to give you.”

Mrs. Taylor takes the bag and lets out a quick and humored laugh, “Ah Father Scott, how you know these my favorite?”

Jason clears his throat, and scratches the back of his neck, “Well, Mr. Kapoor actually.”

Mrs. Taylor laughs again and shakes her head, “Oh course, of course. Thank you, Father Scott. Now…” she waves Jason forward, “come, food is ready.”

Jason nods and follows her down to the open area of the dining room where he can see Zack plating food through the kitchen nook.

Mrs. Taylor motions to the kitchen sink then, “You can wash hands and then you sit here.” she points to a chair on the circular table facing the kitchen. 

Jason does as he’s told, half-hearing Mrs. Taylor instruct Zack in something once he takes his seat. 

He takes a second to look around while Zack and his mother are in the kitchen. Jason notices a few trinkets around the room and what he had been able to see when he stepped inside. He can see the stark contrast of how vacant his own place seems in comparison. Before he can dwell on that, Zack steps over to one of the vacant chairs to the side of his. Glancing up, Jason sees Mrs. Taylor still in the kitchen, her back to them.

“So, glad you were able to find your way here all right.”

Jason places his hands in his lap to keep from fidgeting, “Yeah,” he glances towards the kitchen again and back, “I’m not sure if I thanked you for dropping by this morning.”

Zack scoots his chair in, the shadow of a smirk on his lips, “Not a problem, Father Scott.”

Mrs. Taylor turns and walks towards the table then, setting down some plates of food and turns back around to grab others. When she sets those down too, she finally takes her seat.

“Okay, Father Scott, here is dinner,” she gestures to the plates “Peking pork chops, white rice, dumplings, and garlic ginger boy choy. If you would please say grace we may begin.”

“Of course, Mrs. Taylor, thank you, it all looks wonderful.”

She smiles at him and then nods as he closes her eyes and claps her hands together. Zack does the same to Jason’s other side, and then he follows before he starts.

After their unison Amen’s, Mrs. Taylor pours Jason his drink and serves food to each of them. 

He tries not to notice the way Mrs. Taylor seems to be watching him expectantly when he takes his first bite, but when he finally does taste the food, he can’t help the delighted sound he makes, “This is delicious, Mrs. Taylor.” he says after swallowing his bite. 

She responds by smiling at him again, “Oh, you very sweet, Father, Scott. Please eat as much as you like.”

They fall into a comfortable silence for a number of minutes before she speaks again, “So my Zack tell me he look at your truck like promised today.”

Jason dabs his mouth with a napkin, “He did,” he nods, “I, uh, appreciated his looking at it. I actually drove it here wth my things when I first moved into town, but I think it might have been a little more than it could take because the moment I turned it off after pulling into my house, it was the last time it ran. So I admit it would be nice to see it running again.”

“My Zack will fix it, I am sure. He is very good at this.”

Jason looks over to Zack who is rolling his eyes humorously at his mother, “I’m sure of it as well.” he says with a smile when Zack turns to him. 

They make small talk after that. Jason fills them in on the latest details of the fundraiser, surmising that they might be able to schedule it within the next couple of weeks. 

Mrs. Taylor clears her throat then, “Father Scott, I think I would like you to say tomorrow about my treatment. I do not want people to not know about it so not to deceive.” 

“Mrs. Taylor, deception is far from a term I would use in your disclosing private information; but of course, if that is what you would like, I will gladly mention it tomorrow.”

“Yes, thank you.”

They fall into another silence until they’ve finished eating and Zack tells an anecdote from work about a man who complained that it was difficult to break smoothly and didn’t realize he had been driving with his parking break on, much to his embarrassment. 

By the end of the meal, they’re laughing together and Jason feels gratified in having been invited to share the evening with them.

“Mama, it’s almost time for you to take your medication” Zack says, looking over at the time. 

Mrs. Taylor sighs “Yes, I know.”

Jason sits up then, “I should actually probably be going soon, I don’t want to keep you up.”

“You are welcome to stay as long as you like,” she says with a pat to his hand, but follows his lead when he stands from his seat. 

When he makes a move to take his dishes, Zack reaches over to press his hand against Jason’s wrist, “Oh no you don’t, I’ve got this.”

Ignoring the warmth that spreads from the small contact, Jason tries to argue, “I’d like to at least do something after you two prepared such a lovely meal.”

“No, you are guest, Father Scott and you do enough with your wonderful Mass and everything else you do.” Mrs. Taylor responds, taking his dish from him and walking over to the kitchen. 

Jason looks down when he feels Zack’s hand briefly close around his wrist before it disappears and Zack takes the other plates, following behind his mother. 

After thanking them for the meal again, Jason gives Mrs. Taylor a warm handshake after she excuses herself to take her medication following another reminder from Zack who assures his mother that he will take care of the clean up and help her with the muscle ointment before she sleeps. 

They watch as she disappears into a room and Zack turns to Jason by the door entrance, “She always refuses to take her medication until she’s wearing her comfortable sleep clothes.” he says with a chuckle.

Jason smiles back at him and they stand quietly for a few seconds.

“Are you sure you won’t let me help you clean up?”

Zack snorts, “Like I said earlier, it’s cute that you still try.” He reaches for Jason’s hand, pressing their palms together. “Everything okay since I left?” he asks, his eyes on their hands. 

Jason steels a breath as he looks to the hallway Mrs. Taylor disappeared down and reaches his free hand up to the side of Zack’s face. “Yes.”

Zack looks up then and Jason sees his shoulders relax when he smiles.

They hear a shuffling sound from down the hall and Jason pulls his hand back from Zack’s face, but before he can move his other one, Zack wraps his fingers around his wrist like he did earlier and leans forward, voice low, “Goodnight, Jason. I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
He presses a light kiss on Jason’s lips and then pulls away to open the front door. 

**

Jason spends his Saturday morning early at the Church. When he walked into the sacristy, he found a note from Father Schiff which indicated that a chosen date for the fundraiser for the month was set in, as Jason suspected, two weeks time on a Saturday—which Father Schiff found as a better fit since that was the day Mrs. Taylor attended Mass. He would tell those in early Sunday Mass about the date, he noted. Jason is glad for it, and thinks it perfect timing since by then, Mrs. Taylor should be getting notice of her first appointment. 

Now Jason stands in the middle of the room. He hasn’t changed into his chasuble yet and it isn’t because it’s still early, but because this is the first time he’s been in the Church since he and Zack were together. Jason feels a prickling of shame even remembering what happened while he’s standing here. 

He looks up to the Holy Cross above the drawer shelves in the room and finds himself praying and asking for a sign if he is deemed unfit to perform the Holy sacraments in God’s name. 

**

4:40 PM

Jason washes his hand in the sink, patting his hands dry as he turns and slips the chasuble over his head, breath held. 

When he’s finished, his hands smooth down the robe. He doesn’t feel any different and the fabric is a comfortable and familiar weight rather than an estranged one as he has somewhat feared. 

Whether he’s relieved or uneasy about this, he can’t quite figure out. 

**

Before he ends Mass, Jason brings up the fundraiser again. He sees some Church attendees sitting up a little straighter at that and he holds back a smile. After telling them the date, his eyes seeks out Mrs. Taylor’s and he gives her a short nod when she reassures him with a smile. 

“There’s also something else I would like to mention about the fundraiser. With her gracious acceptance, some of the proceeds will be used to cover a portion of a monthly procedure for the benefit of Mrs. Taylor.” He notices some faces half-turning to where she sits, but they otherwise take the announcement as attentively as they did the date, if not more welcoming. “With that, I hope those of you able and willing to participate in the fundraiser will do so and if you have any questions, please feel free to ask.”

He says another few words then and ends Mass. 

Jason notices a number of people walking over to Mrs. Taylor but instead of looking aggravated by it, she seems in good humor. Zack is beside her and catches Jason’s eye when he sees him, but his attention is grabbed a second later by his mother turning to him. 

Later, Jason won’t let himself admit it, but he is a little disappointed that Zack doesn’t show up in the confessional booth.

When he returns to the sacristy to change, he finds a pen and turns the note Father Schiff left him over to write down a note himself, informing him that Mrs. Taylor had given her permission to mention where a portion of the proceeds would be going to. 

**

Jason makes another hospital visit on Sunday that leaves him tired, albeit good about doing what he could, and doesn’t return home until late in the evening. 

By Monday morning, Jason wakes up to a sticky heat. Peeling his shirt off, he heads into his kitchen for a glass of water. 

Just as he’s set his glass down, he gets a knock on his door. He looks down at himself and hesitates as he steps into his hallway to grab a shirt when the knock comes again. He quietly walks to the door and peers through the peephole. When he pulls back, he feels his pulse quicken. He tries to take a step back but then he hears Zack call out his name from the other side.  
He grimaces out a sigh before opening the door, angling his torso behind the door as he does so.

“Did you just wake up?”

“Sort of.”

“Can I come in?”

Jason opens the door further, moving his body back with it, “Yes, um… I was just—I was going to grab a shirt when you knocked.”

Zack lifts his eyebrows, interested, “Oh?” He steps in and Jason feels a blush reach down his chest when he sees Zack’s eyes on him, “Can’t imagine why’d you need to.”

When Jason instinctively crosses his arms over his chest, Zack rolls his eyes, “Seriously?” 

He sets his toolbox on the floor and reaches over, nudging one of Jason’s arms away as he closes the front door and steps close to him. 

When he presses their lips together, Jason can’t help but relax into the kiss. He shivers when Zack skims his hand up from its hold on his arm up to his chest and Jason considers the irony of Zack’s warm touch making him shiver that way. 

They both pull away at the same time and Jason takes a second to calm that instinct of fear over what he’s doing that simmers being this close to him. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

Zack steps back and digs into his pant pocket, pulling out a pair of spark plugs, “Thought I’d come by to test these out.”

Jason tries to restrain from trying to cover himself with his hands again when he sees the way that Zack’s eyes keep darting down his chest, “Oh. Uh, yeah, sure.” He turns to the door that leads to the backyard and doesn’t miss the quiet hum of approval from Zack when his eyes scan Jason’s back and shoulders, falling in step behind him.

The sun is sweltering when they step out and Jason is thankful that he remembered to put on the house slippers he left by the door this time.

“Hot, huh?” Zack asks when they’ve reached the truck, setting his toolbox down as Jason carefully opens the truck door, waving away the wave of hot air that clouds inside.

“Didn’t expect it to get so hot.” 

“Yeah it gets like this around this time of year—a heat wave that lasts through the week and then we’ll get a rainfall that cools everything down again. Gets worse every year, it feels like.”  
He reaches into his toolbox to pull out a rag while Jason releases the hood latch. While the truck is under the awning, the heat still sticks around them and Zack uses the rag to keep his hands from burning when he lifts the hood up. 

After a couple of minutes, Zack peeks out from the hood to call out, “Try to turn the ignition on for me.”

Jason does as he asks and then Zack holds a hand up after a few seconds. 

Another minute passes with Zack leaning in tinkering with something. Jason steps out of the car this time to stand by Zack who has a look of concentration and a bead of sweat on his brow. He pulls back after another couple of minutes, contemplative as he looks across the board of the engine. Jason watches as he kneels down to his toolbox and wipes over his forehead, when he looks at the streak of sweat on his hand, Zack stands and, without looking at Jason, pulls his shirt over his head, balling the shirt before setting it by the hood and crouches back down to his toolbox. 

Jason feels like the rays of sun on his back just rose a by a degree as he finds himself unable to look away from the expanse of skin and muscle. Zack is thin but he has defined lines on his arms and shoulders from his active work, and Jason can’t help remembering the last time he saw Zack shirtless the day he stayed over and came out of the shower, water droplets clinging on him like a few beads of sweat are now.

He’s startled out of his thoughts when Zack stands up holding what looks like a fan of numbered metal blades. He turns back to the truck after picking out a blade and leans in to insert it somewhere inside before pulling back and switching over to another blade, repeating the process. Zack then returns to the toolbox, lifting a bottom compartment to retrieve a small electronic device with a windowed gauge. 

Several seconds later, Zack stops and hums out a resigned sigh before stepping back to wipe his hands on the rag and turns to Jason, “So, I figured it would be this the first time I looked at it, but it seems it’s definitely your ignition points which isn’t a surprise considering the life of the car. It’s pretty typical and good news is that it’s easy enough to fix, bad news is that you also need a new starter which basically, as the name states, is what starts the ignition. The shop shares a warehouse with another shop a couple cities over and there’s a chance I could find one for your truck there when we do our weekly restock, but that won’t be until Friday.”

Jason raises his hands passively, “No, that’s really not an issue, like I’ve said, I’m really not in any type of hurry about this.”

Zack nods, “Cool then.” He moves his things back in the toolbox and closes the hood. “In that case, let’s get out of this sun.” He grabs his shirt, still balled up and follows Jason back inside. 

Once they step in, walks into the kitchen, “Water?”

“Please.”

Jason hands Zack a glass and turns away to drink from his own when he watches the bob of Zack’s adam’s apple as he swallows. 

“So what are your plans for the day?” Zack asks.

Jason sets his glass down, “Nothing, really. I just, well, I’m meeting with a couple tomorrow who have asked me to help them prepare for marriage. I’ll be doing their prenuptial interviews tomorrow so I was going to get some things ready for that.”

“Well look at you, going to be officiating a wedding. Anyone I know?”

Jason smiles, “I really don’t think I’m at liberty to say.”

Zack’s snorts, “I’m sure my mom knows.”

Jason shrugs, “What about you, have work?”

“Actually, not today. We hired a new guy and they were going to let him get a feel of the shop today so they weren’t going to need me and Mondays are usually slow around here.”

“And your mom?” Jason asks, taking another sip of his water.

“Dropped her off at Mr. Kapoor’s shop before I got here. Picking her up later so nothing on my schedule until then.” Zack thumbs a droplet of water on his cup and bites his lip as he glances at Jason, “You mind if I stay here until it’s time for me to go pick her up?”

“Of course not.”

“Great,” Zack smiles, and wriggles his oil-stained fingers in the air, “going to go use your bathroom.”

Jason nods, and then stops, “Oh have you eaten?”

“Yeah, I’m good, thanks.” Zack says over his shoulder as he walks down the hall. 

While Zack steps into the bathroom, Jason grimaces at the stale air and goes to his thermostat. 

By the time Zack steps out, shirt back on, Jason turns to him, “I’ve only tried to turn this on once and it took about an hour to really start kicking in,” he says in way of apology.

“It’s all right,” Zack replies, “TV?”

“Sure, let me just go grab a shirt.”

Zack grabs his wrist and drags him towards the living room, “No way.”

“Sit.” Zack instructs when they reach the couch. When Jason sits, Zack takes a seat beside him and grabs the remote. This time they’re much closer than the last time they were sitting on the couch together, Jason notes, when Zack turns the TV on and starts flipping channels like he did the last time. 

After they’ve settled on a movie that looks like it came out in the early nineties, Jason gets soothed by the sound of the AC unit humming and the air turning progressively cooler. 

He’s only half paying attention to the movie, finding himself enjoying just sitting beside Zack who’s attention has taken to the movie. Without thinking, he reaches out his hand between them to hold Zack’s. 

Zack seems surprised, but he quickly smiles and settles back into the couch more comfortably, shoulder pressed against Jason’s. 

** 

“Hm?” Jason’s eyes open. He didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep. When he looks to the TV, the movie credits are rolling and Zack has turned towards Jason in amusement. 

“My company that boring?”

Jason clears his throat, sitting up. The air around them has cooled considerably and he feels a chill down his arms as he comes to. “No, definitely not. I uh, I guess it was just nice, you know, just having you right here.”

Zack smiles and bites his lip, “Good to know.”  
He leans forward hesitantly and Jason meets him halfway in a kiss.

It’s unhurried but it still makes Jason’s stomach flutter. 

Zack pulls back enough to lock his eyes with Jason’s, their breaths catching between them. “Thanks for the making the announcement about my mom’s treatment on Saturday.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that. Anything you and your mom need, I’m glad to help.”

“Right now I just need you to kiss me.” Zack whispers against his lips. 

Jason nods, “Okay.” 

He wraps his hand to the back of Zack’s head when they kiss. Jason gets a fleeting worry that he could get addicted to the way Zack’s tongue feels when it slides against his. 

Another movie begins playing on the television, 90’s-era music playing like the movie before it. 

Jason hears Zack shifting from his seat, his lips never leaving Jason’s as he leans his weight against him, pressing Jason back against the armrest. His hands find their way on Jason’s chest again and Jason moans at the heat of them. 

A few moments after that, Zack is pulling back and Jason’s eyes feel glazed over as he catches his breath and feels himself stutter out a breath when Zack pulls his shirt over his head like he did earlier outside. Jason barely has a chance to take in the sight before Zack is turning fully towards him, knees on the couch cushions. 

Jason adjusts the position by lifting a leg up and let’s the other dangle as Zack settles in between his legs, resting his naked chest against Jason’s. 

Zack kisses him harder now, it feels hungrier and Jason can’t help but get lost in it, giving as good as he gets as he sets his hand in the curve of Zack’s neck, the other flat against Zack’s back. 

He doesn’t expect the humming moan that vibrates through both their bodies when Zack rolls his hips down against Jason’s, or the shiver that goes through his body when Zack sucks Jason’s lower lip into his mouth. 

That all it takes for Jason to arch his back against the now persistent and rhythmic press of their hips as Zack’s lips descend to Jason’s neck, sucking the skin between his mouth and soothing it with his tongue.

“Zack,” Jason whispers, groaning at the way they’re both coming to hardness. 

Zack lifts his head and mouth with a pop and leans back a little with his hands. His lips look red and wet and in this moment, Jason feels terrified by the thought that he would do anything if Zack asked him to right now. His hands fit against the sides of Zack’s hips, breath biting as Zack continues to roll his hips down, hands stretched flat against Jason’s chest through the motions. 

“Zack,” he repeats, thumb pressing against the skin of his pelvis and then Zack stops. Jason doesn’t get a chance to question it as Zack sits back and begins to tug Jason’s pants down, “Take these off.” The demand is more of a self-direction by the way he maneuvers them off himself. When he throws them to the ground, Zack’s eyes stare hungrily at the bulge tenting Jason’s briefs and he bites back a moan. Just as quickly, Zack stands from the couch and steps out of his jeans, kicking them away, and climbs back into his earlier position flat against Jason’s body. 

Jason gasps into Zack’s mouth when he feels Zack tug his cock out of his briefs and then does the same with his own. They groan at the sensation of being pressed together when Zack wraps his hand around both of them. 

Jason feels like his cock is throbbing in time with his heartbeat and he whines somewhere low in his throat when Zack pumps them both, once. Jason’s nails dig into the skin of Zack’s back when Zack bites at his earlobe, lightly. 

He’s flushed and panting and gets a thrill down his spine knowing Zack is feeling the same way. It’s having this thought in mind that has him snaking one arm between them to wrap alongside Zack’s. 

“Oh, fuck.” Zack moans, mouth harsh and wet against Jason’s as if he thinks Jason will chastise him for cursing if he doesn’t. 

When they pull their mouths away in a gasp to breath, Jason can’t help looking down between them, hips bucking at the sight of their hands together, the slick of their precome and heat almost slippery as they move. 

Jason throws his head back involuntarily, arching against Zack’s smile on his jaw when he twists their hands together. He’s fighting a wave of dizziness at the rhythm of their bodies and the constant thrum of pleasure through his own. He doesn’t think he can take too much more. And he thinks maybe Zack won’t be able to either by the way that his fist picks up speed. Jason squeezes them, toes curling with the way that it pulls a long moan from Zack’s throat. 

“Jason,” Zack groans, “I’m going to come soon.”

“Me too.” 

Zack grabs onto the armrest behind Jason’s head with his free hand, lifting his body up just enough to give them better room. His eyes are closed, mouth open and Jason thinks he looks beautiful. He impresses the image in his mind as he closes his own eyes, their movements becoming staggered, uneven, and desperate. 

They’re both gasping for breath by the time Zack is folding into him, gasping as he comes and it the sound and feel of it that has Jason coming after him, body arching off the couch a second later. 

Zack’s chest falls flat against his, their hands slowing between them as they catch their breath. 

Jason feels heavy and breathless underneath Zack, but he manages to raise his free hand to tangle in the back of Zack’s neck. 

When Zack lifts his head at the sensation, Jason kisses him again, slow, sloppy, and perfect. Zack pulls his hand away from between them, lifting his arm and breaks their kiss to glance at his hand. Jason lifts his own soiled hand and uses it to guide Zack’s fingers to Jason’s own lips, sucking the tip of his pointer and forefinger into his mouth, reveling in the way that it causes Zack to involuntarily buck his hips against him. It’s an obscene gesture, knows he'd cringe at himself if he could, but all Jason can think about is how complete he feels being with Zack like that.

Maybe Zack feels the same way as he licks his lips and replaces his fingers with his mouth, tongue extracting the taste from him in a smile. 

Jason’s lips tingle when they part again and Zack slowly lifts himself off, “Be right back.”

He hears Zack walk to his bathroom followed by the sound of the faucet. When it turns off, he hears his footsteps coming back, “You want some water?”

“Sure.”

Zack comes back into the living room a few seconds later, cup of water in hand. He’s tucked himself in and has a damp hand towel in his other hand. He gives the cup to Jason who sits up from the couch. Zack takes a seat beside him again as they were before and takes Jason’s other hand, wiping it down with the towel. He carefully but thoroughly cleans down Jason’s abdomen, eyes teasing when Jason shudders as Zack lifts his briefs back up. 

When he’s finished, Zack takes the cup from Jason’s hand to take a sip of water himself. He passes it back and stifles a yawn. 

“Sleepy?”

Zack huffs a laugh, “What can I say, you wore me out, Jason.”

Jason hides his smile, a lock of hair falling forward that Zack pushes back. Jason glances over at Zack from under his eyelashes and then stands up, hand outstretched for Zack to take.

They leave the now empty glass on the dining table and Jason tosses the hand towel in his laundry basket when they step into his bedroom. The comforter is still bunched at the bottom of the bed where he had kicked them in his sleep to escape the heat. He let’s go of Zack’s hand when he moves to the other side of the bed and sits down. He looks up at Zack when he does so and tentatively pats the vacant side, “Come on, take a nap.”

Zack holds his gaze as he knees onto the bed, and lets himself fall onto the bed, head on the pillow Jason had used last night. He shifts over to his shoulder, facing Jason and touches Jason’s arm until he’s lying down next to him, mirroring his position. 

“Okay,” Zack whispers, swiping his hand down Jason’s arm before settling it underneath his cheek and closes his eyes. 

Jason does the same a second later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you all knew what would be going on in this chapter the moment they were casually shirtless and talking in the kitchen, let's not kid ourselves.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) once is chance, twice is coincidence, three is a pattern.

Jason wakes to the sound of someone down the street mowing their lawn. He blinks against the light he can see from his window and turns his head to his side table where his clock rests. It’s in the early minutes of noon.  
He catches the sight of his Bible behind the clock and swallows against the dryness in his throat.  
_He has strayed from His flock._ , a voice in Jason's head whispers.

When he forces himself to turn his head the opposite way, he sees Zack’s sleeping form. He moved onto his stomach, comforter pulled up to his waist, but his head is angled towards him. The sight erases all other thoughts racing in Jason’s head.  
He’s never woken up to someone in bed with him before and he’s not sure he could ever describe the pleasant way it makes him feel to experience it now. 

He gingerly raises his hand and glides just the tip of his fingers down the slope of Zack’s shoulders, marveling at the goosebumps that form under his touch. 

He moves his finger tips down, sliding down the arch of his elbow, then up to his wrist until he reaches the knuckles of his hand, pressed down besides his face on the pillow. Jason’s fingers smooth over a deep, healing scratch around the curve of his pinky. Jason imagines it came from his job.  
Zack has a gift of bringing things back to life even if there are moments where he might get hurt in the process. Jason doesn’t ever want to be the cause of Zack’s pain, but their situation will always bring a type of grief that can only be soothed, not erased. 

He looks over to Zack when the fingers underneath his lift in a wriggle and finds him awake, eyes soft, but focused, “What are you thinking about?” 

Jason looks back to his hand and threads his fingers between Zack’s until Zack bends his fingers down, capturing Jason’s between his to bend together. “What made you become a mechanic?”

Zack shrugs, “Oh you know, good with my hands.” he smirks. 

Jason snorts lightly and shakes his head.

“Mom and me never had much money growing up. A lot of things we had to figure out how to do on our own to save money, that was just one of them and it stuck, I guess.” 

“You ever want to do anything else?”

“I don’t really think about it. I guess I wish I could be one of those people who becomes some big financial success and buys his mom a house and life she could be proud of.”

“Hey,” Jason squeezes down his hand, scooting his body closer to Zack’s, “I’m not sure there’s anything you could do to make your mom more proud than she already is. I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation with her when she didn’t find something appreciative to say about you.”

Zack bites his lip, eyes cast at their clasped hands, “Don’t think she’d be very proud of her son seducing her priest, though.”

Jason turns his eyes away to the empty space between them at that, the weight of his thoughts from earlier settling on his mind again.

“I’m sorry,” Zack says, suddenly. He’s pushing himself up with his other hand and untangling the one between them to palm Jason’s cheek. Jason blinks against the haze of thoughts at the sensation, “No, hey really, I’m sorry,” Zack kisses his lips once, lingering, “I shouldn’t have said that,” He squeezes his eyes shut and sighs in frustration, “That was stupid.”

“Zack.”

When Zack opens his eyes to look at him, Jason gives him a small, reassuring, if not cheerless smile, “It’s okay, don’t apologize. We both know about some of the things this means for us.”

Shaking his head, Zack brushes Jason’s hair away from his face, “I still shouldn’t have said it, I—“ he sighs again, “I really care about you, Jason.”

Jason lifts his head, shouldering his body to kiss Zack, catching his bottom lip between his, briefly, “I care about you too, Zack.” He bites his own lip into his mouth, eyes locked on Zack’s, “Let’s not think about it anymore right now, how about that?”

Zack nods, soundly kissing Jason back and digs his fingers softly in Jason’s hair. 

Jason pulls back after, his and Zack’s heads carefully setting down onto the pillow together. He takes a steady breath, pressing his forehead against Zack’s, “What time are you picking your mom up?”

“Around 1:30.”

“It’s already 12 now.” 

Zack sighs, trailing his hand from Jason’s head down to his back, fingers slowly skating down Jason’s spine, “I wish I could stay here all day with you.”

Jason hums in agreement, his body so sensitive to Zack’s touch, no matter how light or rough. 

After a few seconds of peaceful silence, Zack pushes himself up, moving the comforter off his body and stands, “Come on,” he says.

Jason lifts his eyebrow, eyes lingering over the expanse of Zack’s body standing beside the bed, “Where exactly are we going?”

“My mom has the nose of a hound dog. No way I’m picking her up smelling like sweat and you, no matter how _very okay_ I am with that mixture of smells on me.”

“So you want to take a shower?” Jason asks slowly, hesitant in lifting himself up.

“Yes, let’s go.”

“Uh.”

“Your shower is plenty big for the both of us, now come on before we waste more time and you force me to leave my poor mother waiting for me outside Mr. Kapoor’s market.”

Jason stands then and bites the inside of his cheek when he follows Zack out of his bedroom. 

“Towels.” Zack says over his shoulder as he walks down and out of the hallway. Jason stops by the hall cabinet and pulls out two towels, his gut tingling as he walks into his bathroom, careful to avoid looking across the hall where he knows his rosary sits when he goes back to his bedroom for a change of clothes. 

When Zack enters the bathroom, he’s holding his balled shirt and the jeans he took off earlier and places them on the sink counter while Jason turns the water on. 

The sound of the water hitting the shower floor and walls is loud in Jason’s ears when he turns around and Zack is stepping out of his underwear. He swallows involuntarily. He hadn’t had a full look of Zack naked until now. He feels himself reddening under Zack’s gaze when he takes his own off.

Zack takes his hand when he steps forward, leaning into the shower stall to test the water. When he pulls his hand out, he tugs at Jason’s hand and steps in, Jason following in behind him. Zack walks under the shower head, the spray of water flattening his hair as it cascades down his body. 

Jason thinks he’s going to have a lot of trouble getting this image out of his mind. 

He stands by, uselessly, as Zack grabs for his soap and rubs the suds down his arms and chest. 

Then Zack is stepping aside and tugging Jason under the water with him. Jason’s eyes close as he feels the water envelop him and suppresses a shiver when Zack runs the soap over his body, hands and soap bar brushing over his skin. His eyes open against the water and he makes out the blurry sight of Zack’s sly smile when he rubs the soap lower down his body, grabbing the attention of the sensitive skin on his groin. But Zack makes quick work of it and then he’s letting Jason wash the suds away to finish soaping himself over. 

When they move onto the shampoo, Jason decides to take the bottle in hand himself, to Zack’s amusement. He massages the liquid into Zack’s head and then sets the bottle down when he pours some onto his hand for himself. The conditioner follows and Jason repeats the process. 

After he’s stepped out from the water, he finds Zack looking at him at the far end of the shower edge. Jason runs his hand over his head to slick his hair back away from his eyes “Should I turn it off now?”

Zack bites his lip in thought, and takes a step forward, “Not yet.” 

The wetness of his lips against his own makes the kiss slippery and when Zack opens his mouth, a soft sound of content escapes from Jason’s throat at the taste of water alongside Zack’s.  
Jason thinks he could get lost in this moment if he could.

He can feel himself, a little embarrassingly, getting hard already, but when Zack presses closer to him, the slide of his skin against his own, he knows Zack is, too. 

Jason moans long and deep when Zack presses him back against the shower wall, the water hitting the side of his shoulder, and gasps when Zack licks a line down his throat, biting at the juncture of his neck and shoulder while his hands grope down his chest. 

He hears the sound of surprise from Zack when Jason wraps his hands around his shoulders and flips their positions, latching his mouth down onto Zack’s throat. He kisses back up to Zack’s mouth when he wraps his hand around Zack’s cock, wanting to swallow the moan that leaves his mouth at the action.  
He pumps once, twice, swiping his thumb over the tip when Zack sinks his fingernails against his shoulder blades for support. 

Jason is picking up speed, swallowing Zack’s groans of pleasure with every pump, but then he’s surprised when Zack pulls his mouth away, “Wait,” he pants.  
Jason stops, hand still wrapped around him, “What…do you want me to stop?” 

Zack shakes his head, a whine in his throat as he nips at Jason’s lips one more time, “No, but... I just, I need to…” Jason lets himself get maneuvered again against the wall, Zack’s hands still on his shoulders, “I need…” Zack repeats, stepping back, hands still pressing Jason against the wall until he’s sure he isn’t going to pull away from it. 

And then Jason’s eyes are widening as he watches Zack slowly sinking to his knees. “Zack,” he breaths. 

“I’ve fantasized about doing this for so long.” Zack, says, voice dripping with heat as he stares at Jason’s erection in front of him. “Do you remember that day in the confessional,” he moves his gaze up to Jason then, “when I said I wanted to do this?”

Jason tries to steady the heaving of his chest, staring down at Zack. He _does_ remember it. Remembers how those words had agitated him—more so later when he knew it was Zack who had spoken them. Now, as he looks at Zack on his knees, Jason’s clear arousal in front of him, he can only nod numbly.

Zack’s mouth pulls up into a slow smirk, “So, Father Scott,” his hands smooth up Jason’s trembling thighs, “now that I’ve confessed my sinful urges, will you let me beseech you for forgiveness?”

Jason tenses.  
Hearing Zack say those words, call him _that_ , all while he kneels naked in front of him as if Jason is someone to express reverence to, it—Jason feels like his whole body is trembling for the fear of how strong his hunger for Zack is that he _doesn’t_ automatically recoil or balk from the words, but shudders instead. 

“Yes,” he whispers quickly, not knowing whether he’d be able to do it a second later once the shame seeps into his skin. 

But Zack doesn’t give it time to happen when he takes Jason in hand, giving him a slow pump. He waits until Jason looks down at him again before he peeks his tongue out, and God help him, Jason remembers how Zack was in this exact position in receiving the Eucharist—and that thought is so blasphemous that for a fleeting second, he thinks _he can’t do this_. But then the flat of Zack’s tongue slides over the head of his cock and the sight paired with the feeling explodes into a reaction of pure pleasure. 

Zack’s hand is wrapped around the base of the shaft and Jason barely has enough time for a deep intake of breath before Zack’s mouth fits around the tip, creating a seal with his lips as he bobs his head down just a little lower to take more in. 

He moans around another bob and the vibration sends a deep electrical shock through Jason’s body.  
And then Zack tries to take him in further, testing to see how far he can go. 

Jason is holding his breath, doesn’t know where to place his hands as they scramble against the slippery wall at each passing suction. He can’t even tell whether the water has turned cold anymore, unable to sense anything but the way that Zack’s tongue drags down his shaft and his fist moves in time with the push and pull of his mouth. 

“Zack…please…” he doesn't even know what he's asking for, but it's all he can think to say past swallowing breaths into his lungs.

Zack pulls back with a slow suck, his hand still pumping Jason’s cock as he looks up at him, “You look even more amazing like this, you know.”

Jason’s eyes shut with a long groan when he sees Zack’s other hand wrapping around his own cock. He won’t last if he watches him, he knows it. 

When Zack takes him into his mouth again, deeper than he did before, his head falls back in a half-suppressed shout, hands reflexively resting against Zack’s head. Zack squeezes the base of his cock at that and so Jason digs his fingers through the wet hair, whispering Zack’s name in a mantra. 

Zack’s hand unwraps from around Jason’s cock after a second and he makes up for the loss by impossibly taking him deeper. His hand comes to curve around Jason’s hip and he feels the way that Zack tugs his hip, gesturing an encouragement for him to thrust forward. He does so, experimentally and receives and appreciative moan from Zack.  
He slacks his mouth a bit, lets Jason’s thrusts do the work as he continues to work himself over and Jason feels the familiar sensation building down his gut, “Zack,” he gasps, “I going to come soon…your mouth, Zack…”

Jason gasps as Zack’s hand returns to his shaft, using the momentum of Jason’s thrusts with a fervor to suck him as fast as he can manage. When he clenches his hands in Zack’s hair, Jason’s ramblings grow more urgent, “Zack, I’m—ah, I’m going to come, please.” 

Zack twists his wrist in a way that has Jason gasping and then he’s coming, body lifting from the wall while his stomach contracts, his face twisting in pleasure as Zack is still trying to swallow around him. He lurches in a shudder when Zack moans long and deep after coming, himself.

Zack’s hand still slowly strokes Jason while he pulls his mouth away, gasping and Jason’s knees tremble by the time Zack lets him go. 

It takes him several seconds to control his breathing and open his eyes. When he does, Zack is looking at him, mouth open and wet from spit and Jason’s come, lips lifting as he tries to smirk. Jason hears him laugh when his eyes shut at the sight of Zack running his tongue over his bottom lip. 

Without opening his eyes, Jason reaches for Zack, tugging him up until he’s standing and kisses him like he had been wanting since he first called out his name. When they pull away, Jason shivers, his body now becoming aware of the cold water falling over them, “We have to clean ourselves again.”

Zack hums against his lips, “That’s too bad.”

This time when Zack takes the bar of soap to their bodies, Jason settles his hand on the back of Zack’s neck to kiss him through it. 

**

Once they’ve stepped out of the shower and dressed, Zack walks to Jason’s kitchen, refilling the empty cup they set on the table earlier and takes a drink. He passes it to Jason who drinks the rest. 

“I have to go now or I’ll be late.”

“I know.”

Zack sighs, “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

Jason nods, “Of course.”

Zack smiles at him then and leans forward, pressing a kiss to Jason’s cheek with a squeeze to his arm. He looks like he wants to say something else, but decides against it and instead turns around to grab his toolbox and disappears through the front door.

Jason listens for the sound of him driving away.

**

Tuesday morning, Jason steps into the room where the couple seeking marriage preparation are waiting for him. They’re holding hands when Jason walks in. 

“Welcome back.” He says, sitting down with a smile when they greet him back.

“So, if you remember from the last time we met, this next part of the Pre-Cane process is a simple, straightforward interview for each of you. Are you both still comfortable with doing this?”

“We are.” Karen replies.

“Great. So, which of you would like to go first?”

The couple shares a glance and Frank sits up, “Uh, I’d like to, if that’s okay.”

Karen nods her head, squeezing Frank’s hand.

“Sounds good,” he turns to Karen, “If you won’t mind waiting outside? It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

“Of course!” She stands then, pressing a kiss to Frank’s cheek. Jason gets a ghost of a reminder on his own cheek when Zack had done the same to him yesterday. And thinking about Zack right now is not what he was looking for, so he busies himself by pulling out a folder of sheets he put together. 

When Karen closes the door behind her, Frank scoots his chair up, he looks like he’s indecisive in whether to sit casually or straight and proper and settles on a mix of both.

“All right, Frank,” Jason spreads out a few sheets on the desk. He picks up a pen and then, glancing at Frank, puts it down, “So, you mentioned before you were a baptized non-Catholic, but the Church is granting you a dispensation.”

“Um, yup.”

“May I ask why you became non-practicing?”

“Uh, to tell you the truth, my mom was Catholic, which is why I was baptized, but after she died when I was young and then…,” he clasps his hands together, twiddling his thumbs together “well, honestly, Father, I haven’t had too many good things in my life—until Karen, that is—so I fell out of it and,” he shrugs, “that’s about it, I guess.”

Jason nods politely. “Thank you, and I’m sorry about your mother, I’m sure she would have been happy to know that you found someone you seem to care so much about.”

“Thanks, Father, and I do…” he smoothes his hands down his legs, “care about Karen. I can’t imagine how I got so lucky to have her in my life and I know momma would’ve liked her, too. Karen just… she makes me really happy and every time I see her, I just get these butterflies in my stomach like they say in those sappy movies and I think about how there’s a lot I’d get through as long as she’ll accept being in my life, you know? Or uh… well, I mean,” he waves his hand, “maybe you don’t know exactly—your being a priest and all—or maybe you do… uh.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Frank.” Jason says, quickly and then relaxes his face as impassively as he can, “The love you desc—“ he stops then, doesn’t remember Frank mentioning that word, but tries to continue anyway, “What I mean to say is that I’m glad you found Karen.”

“Yeah, love,” Frank says, unconcerned or unaware of the way Jason fumbled through his words. “Yeah, I love her all right and while I’ve never thought of myself as someone worthy of it from all the past regrets in my life… she seems to love me back and I’m not going to fight it.” He shakes his head then, seemingly clearing his thoughts, “But oh wow, so uh, sorry I got off topic, or—maybe I didn’t, but what else you need to ask about?”

Containing his own thoughts, Jason glances down at his papers, “Right, so some standard questions are things like have you been married before, and whether this marriage is being done by a force in or outside your relationship, or it’s of your own free will.”

“Never been married, no, and if you call it free will to say there ain’t anything I want more than to marry Karen, then that’s what it is.”

Jason smiles, “Good.” He turns to another sheet. “So the Church also requires that I ask whether you hope or plan to have children and if so, if you will raise them Catholic.”

“Oh wow, sure I’d be open to having kids if Karen is open to it too and I don’t mind raising them Catholic if that what she wants, too.”

“That’s good to hear. Uh, with that in mind, I need to ask whether a child will be brought into a financially secure household if you decide to have one.”

“Karen’s always been good with numbers. She’s an ambitious person and has a job that makes her happy. Me, I’m working too; got some savings already squared away which is why we’re getting that house I mentioned last time.”

“Sound good to me.” He shuffles down another paper, takes hold of his pen and writes something down before he glances down some points and then hesitates before setting it aside, “I think that’s all I need to ask.”

Frank lifts his eyebrows in surprise, “That’s it?” he laughs, “I gotta tell you, Father, I was expecting the third degree here. Not complaining, don’t get me wrong, just was nervous about it.”

Jason laughs, “I can understand someone being nervous about this, but we’re really just making sure you’re both going into this with a free and clear intent for happiness.”

“No, yeah, I don’t have any issues on that front. I was waiting for you to ask us if we’re still sleeping together because that was going to be an awkward convers—uh…” he clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck, “well anyway, should I go get Karen now?”

Jason feels the prickle of heat on the back of his neck. He doesn’t think he’d be in any position to talk about the sanctity of chastity again, not when his head throbs remembering that this hand holding a pen he just used to check off a list for a sacramental preparation had been used the day before to break that very sin. Frank is still looking at him and Jason forces himself to smile, “No need to worry about that, we already brought it up the first time. And yes, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Frank stands from his chair, “Music to my ears.” he jokes, lifting Jason’s smile. 

He leaves the room and Jason sits back to take a deep breath, holds it, and then lets it out slowly in an attempt to clear his head. After his third steady breath, he hears a knock on the door followed by Karen walking in, shy smile on her face, “So, my turn?”

“Sure is, please take a seat.”

“Frank is good at keeping a straight face when he wants to, so I couldn’t tell if it went good or bad and he wouldn’t tell me when I asked so I’m a little nervous now. Sorry beforehand if I start rambling like I think I’m doing now—okay!” she laughs, “Ready.”

“Nothing to be nervous about,” Jason laughs, relaxed, “I promise you it will be quick and painless. How about we start with something simple and straightforward first: how long have you and Frank been in a relationship?”

“Sexual or romantic?” 

“Um.”

She winches, “Oh wow, way to go, Karen.” she shakes her head, eyes closing briefly, “of course you mean romantic. Please forget I said anything before this moment.”

“…All right.”

“About four years now—five if you count the year before we officially became a couple.”

“How long since your engagement before you came here?”

“We got engaged about two months before the first time we met with you. One of those months was discussing doing this process and our hoping you’d do this for us.”

“Of which I am still honored to do.”

Karen laughs, waving him off. 

“Okay, so, a couple of these questions we already discussed the first time, so I’ll get to the standard ones of have you been married before, and is this marriage completely of your own free will?”

“Hard no on the first one and definite yes on the second one. I knew from the first few months of our relationship together that I hoped to marry him someday. Frank he—” she sighs, leaning forward in her chair, “he’s had a tough life, but he’s honest. When I met him, it took a lot of work for him to open up to me. Took a longer time than that to make him accept that he could let someone love him. Everyone deserves to have love in their lives no matter who they are…” She trails off, eyes unfocused on the wall behind Jason.  
She blinks them back into focus a handful of seconds later, “Sorry…”

“No, no, it’s—I appreciate hearing how much you care about him—both of you.”

She smiles shyly, “Yeah, well, we’re just a couple of lovebirds, aren’t we?”

“Nothing wrong with that. Well, as I mentioned to Frank, the Church requires that I bring up the topic of whether there might be any children in your and Frank’s future and if they would be raised under the Catholic Church.”

“Huh.” Karen bites his lip, “We really haven’t discussed it, to be honest. I’m not sure how soon I’d be ready to have kids, but…well, it’s a cute thought to think of a little us or two running around, isn’t it? Maybe even adop—” She laughs, biting her nails as she does it, “I’d be open to it down the line, yeah. And it’d be nice to raise them with the Church.”

“Happy to hear that,” Jason says genuinely. He can’t say it out loud, but he believes they’d be great parents if they do ever decide to go down the path. The Church favors procreation under its religious guidance, but Jason likes to trust that couples do so under their own accord. “On that same thought, the Church asks if the child would be born under a financially steady home.”

Jason smiles to himself when Karen’s answer matches the one Frank gave her. “All right,” he makes a show of closing the folder on his desk, “that’s it!”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“Oh wow, okay, I psyched myself out for nothing, it seems like.”

“if you can keep a secret, I’ll reveal the fact that Frank felt the same way when he was done.”

Karen laughs, “Oh, I believe it. So… what’s next?”

“Well, we just set up the next appointment. If you wouldn’t mind letting Frank know he can come back in, we’ll get that scheduled in and then you two can go home.”

“Yay!” Karen steps out of the office and returns quickly with Frank in tow.

“So, Father, did we pass the interview?” Frank asks.

“It’s really not that type of interview,” Jason laughs, but when he sees the way Frank and Karen have gravitated towards holding each other’s hand in what seems unconsciously, Jason sighs, “but sure, gold star for both of you.”

“Nice, go us!” Karen shouts and turns for the high-five Frank offers with his free hand. 

**

Wednesday and Thursday seem to pass in a blur. By Friday night, Jason has lost count of how many times he dials and erases Zack’s number on his phone. 

He argues with himself in thinking that Zack left him his number on the paper with his home address, but when he had done it, he said Jason could call it if he got lost. He didn’t mention using his phone for any other reason. But he knows Zack enough to argue back that Zack would be annoyed with that line of thinking. 

He hasn’t ever used his cellphone for anything other than basic calls and Father Schiff has even texted him a couple times, as strange as that felt, but he’s never used it further than that.  
Jason thinks about setting his phone down, going to do his dutiful and devout readings and then go to sleep. 

It’s what he should do. 

Or.

Jason presses into another window on his screen. He’s memorized the number at this point that he doesn’t even give the worn paper a glance as he types it in. He touches another portion of the screen and presses down two times.  
His finger hovers. Eyes closed, Jason taps his finger down again, hears a sound effect and opens his eyes. His “Hi” a lonely bubble on the screen.  
“ _I shouldn’t have done that_.” he whispers to himself. 

Before he can fall into a panic, a chime sounds, “Hi?” the next bubble reads. 

“ _Maybe next time let him know who you are first, Jason_.” With a steady breath, Jason types again, “Sorry, I should have mentioned it’s me, Jason.”

“!” comes immediately. And then, “I was wondering if you’d ever call me.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

He readies a reply, but another response comes through first that reads, “I miss you.”  
Jason stares at the text. He feels a weightless sensation pass through his chest.  
“Me too.” he types after a moment.

“I found the part for your truck. Would it be okay if I take it over to your house tomorrow morning?”

Jason mentally runs over his to-do list. He has a few errands to run before evening Mass, but he’s confident they won’t take too much time. “Sure.”

“Awesome. I gotta go make sure my mom is taking her medication, but I’m glad you messaged me. Next time maybe don’t take so long to do it again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I am too. I’ll give it better effort next time. See you tomorrow.”

“Have a good night and sweet dreams. By which I mean dreams of me and you making out.”

“I’ll try. Good night, Zack.”

Zack ends the texts with a heart emoji and Jason spends the next five minutes staring over their texts before he finally stands from the couch.

** 

He’s expecting the knock on his door this time. 

Jason ate breakfast and now as he’s sitting at his table, sipping his coffee, he stands quickly from his seat when he hears the knock. He smoothes his hair in place and looks down at his shirt to make sure he doesn’t have some stain he hadn’t noticed. 

When he opens the door, he can’t help smiling, finds it difficult to stop when Zack returns the smile. 

Once the door closes behind him, Zack steps in to set his toolbox and a cardboard box with a mechanical part inside, and then his arms are around Jason’s back, lips insistent against his. Jason’s own arms wind around Zack’s lower back, breathing a calmed sigh through his nose as he kisses him back. 

When they pull back together, Zack is still smiling at him, “Good morning.”

“‘Morning.”

“All right,” Zack steps back, “as much as I would love to do that for a couple hours, I need to get this part installed on your truck so I can go take my mom to her first acupuncture appointment.”

“I’m surprised she’s agreed to go,” Jason admits, taking the boxed part from the table while Zack grabs his toolbox.

“It wasn’t without a little fight, as you can imagine, but I took her around to a few places to see if she’d like one. Fourth place we went to had these small fu dog statues by the entrance so she liked that. Then when we went inside, she ended up spending a good solid half and hour talking to the business owner like they were old friends or something.” They step outside then, walking side-by-side to the truck, “Mom even started exaggerating her aches, trying to haggle into getting some extra balms thrown in for free after her first appointment.”

“Knowing her, I’m sure she probably managed it.”

“Naturally.”

“Well, I’m glad she found somewhere that she’ll be comfortable going to.”

“Yeah, me too.” Zack places his toolbox on the ground, taking the box from Jason, “Okay, let’s get this started.”

The skies are cloudy this morning, a cool but slightly humid soft breeze passing by indicating that it’ll rain by the end of the day like Zack had mentioned last time he was here.

Zack is already fiddling with a part inside, hand spinning a screwdriver. “I got a call from Dr. Roe, by the way. Told me I cleared as my mom’s donor.”

“That’s—that’s good. Did he mention when she’ll be able to go in for her first treatment?”

“In about two weeks. Told us the first two or three times will be there at the hospital but after that, we can do it at home when they get some other equipment in.”

“I’m sure your mom would like that.”

“Yeah, definitely.” He lifts up a part from inside, “Can you grab this real quick?”

Jason rushes over, taking the rusting piece from Zack as he reaches in to pull a newer looking replacement from the cardboard box. “She’s not a big fan of hospitals, as you could probably tell, so that will make the IVIg treatment easier for her to manage with.” He goes back in, tightening a screw and Jason places the old part into the cardboard box. 

“Okay,” Zack says, pulling out from the hood to wipe his hands on the rag in his pocket. He bends down to his toolbox, pulls out what look like jumper cables and begins moving cables around from the battery to the newly installed part. He reaches down to retrieve the metal fan and meter box from last time, sets them on the hood. 

Jason, for his part, is entranced in watching Zack work. Zack mentioned once something about seeing a passion in Jason’s eyes in Church, and he thinks he sees what he’s talking about reflected in Zack’s eyes now. It’s a focus and brightness that is fascinating to look at. 

He’s so caught up on watching him without actively paying attention to what he’s doing, that he’s surprised when he sees a part of the engine start on.  
Zack watches something on his meter then. He smiles to himself, satisfied. 

He cuts the power and begins arranging things. He pulls and puts back a few more things, asks Jason to try turning the engine on with the key. When it does, Zack rummages around his box for a clamp. Jason sits in the driver’s seat, eyes bright with admiration.  
After a few minutes, he starts to move to step out of the car, but Zack leans out to the side towards him, “Rev the engine for me, please.”

When Jason does, Zack nods again and holds his hand up for him to stop, “You can turn it off now.”

A couple more minutes pass where it looks like Zack is cleaning things up inside and putting away each piece he brought out. Jason jumps slightly when Zack shoves the hood down with a accomplished motion before he looks up and smiles, jogging over to the passenger side door. When he slips inside, he closes the door. “Turn it on.”

Jason turns the key, laughing when it starts. He turns to Zack, “You did it.”

Zack shrugs, “Wasn’t anything difficult.”

Jason shakes his head, “That doesn’t matter. You still—“ he laughs again and gives in to his impulse by leaning across the seat to capture Zack’s lips in a kiss. “Thank you,” he whispers when he pulls away.

“Don’t be sappy,” Zack jokes, but he looks pleased. “What time is it?” 

Jason looks down at his wristwatch, “Quarter after 10.”

Zack sighs and leans his head back.

“What time is the appointment?”

“11:30. I’ll leave in like, five minutes.”

“Okay.”

“She’s already planning what to make for that fundraiser, you know. She’s been making this list where she just has an ordered category of stuff she wants to do, like she pretty much has the rest of the year planned out.”

Jason smiles, “I look forward to each one.”

Zack takes his hand then, holding it between his, “yeah, me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was me writing in another low-key cameo of an otp of mine by forcing the relevance of them into the story bc i heard the release date of the punisher series around the time i wrote this chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

The next few days feel like a whirlwind. Jason and Father Schiff have been getting all the final preparations for their first of hopefully a long line of fundraisers. Whenever Mrs. Taylor chooses to stop accepting any of the portions, Jason figures they can choose different areas or charities to aid, if they’re so lucky.

He has also gotten a little more comfortable texting Zack every now and then. Sometimes he just wants to call him to hear his voice instead, but finds it difficult to follow through. 

He’s not surprised, then, when he receives a text message the following Friday afternoon from Zack, but he is surprised by the message itself that reads, “Can I sleep over at your place tonight?”

It takes Jason several minutes to think of a response but before he can, the phone rings, Zack’s name appearing on the screen. “Hello?”

“Hey, did you get my message?”

“Oh, yeah, I was just about to reply… is uh, something happen with your mom?”

“My mom? No, w—oh! No, no, everything is fine. She’s just—well, I told you how she has these plans on what she wants to bring for the thing tomorrow and mom being mom, wanted to make sure she makes enough food to take. I don’t know if she’s confident people will want seconds or she’s just overestimating how much people are actually going to eat, but she said our kitchen isn’t big enough for what she’s going to be making. So, she called her cousin Li-Lin—you know her—or, well, no you never met her because mom had her go home…But anyway, she convinced her to make the food at her place. I was going to go with her but then cousin Li-Lin offered to help instead and so now I’m apparently not needed.”

“Oh. Well, that seems…is that practical considering she lives towns over?”

Zack snorts, “Believe me, I know. I’m already dreading when I go to pick her up to bring the food. So…” he trails off, “sleepover? I can bring the nail polish—you look like a red—and we’ll tell ghost stories, and maybe I can tell you all about this boy I like…”

“Um, I—“

“Wait, are you going to be busy or something? Some secret underground meeting with all the priests to discuss the latest tortilla-Jesus sightings?”

“I wouldn’t be able to tell you, it being secret and all.”

“True.”

“No, I’m not going to be busy. I’m in charge of having everything set up tomorrow so I’d be heading to the Church earlier than typical tomorrow morning, but that’s about it.”

“Cool, I’d be leaving early too to go pick up my mom, so that’s fine.”

“Okay.”

“That a yes?”

“Yes.”

He can practically hear Zack smiling over the phone, “Great, so, I’m about to head home from work and then I’m taking my mom. I’ll go back home to grab a few things and then I can go to your place, or… would it be better to meet up and leave my car at the Church like last time?”

“That’d be fine. Since I’m going there in the morning it’d probably work out better.”

“Sounds good. Okay, I’ll text you later when I get there.”

“All right.”

“See you later.”

**

Jason sets the skillet on his stove and checks his roasting potatoes in the oven. While he would’ve preferred to cook the steaks on a grill, he hasn’t gotten around to buying one yet. 

He’s waiting for Zack’s text. 

Earlier, after he and Zack had hung up, Jason felt mild panic mixed in with excitement at having Zack spend the night. The first time that had happened, circumstances; or rather, Jason’s sentiments had been different. Now things have changed. 

He had gone into town to grab some ingredients for dinner, wanting to make Zack something for a change. 

It was getting late and Jason was beginning to wonder if Zack changed his mind when his phone chimes. 

“At the Church now.” the text reads. 

“On my way.” Jason replies, turning the oven off before grabbing his keys out the door. 

*

When he pulls into the parking lot towards Zack’s car, he sees him step out, pulling out the same backpack from last time with him. 

After he slips into Jason’s car, they drive back to the house. 

*

As they step inside, Jason can smell the cooking potatoes and turns to Zack, “I was in the middle of making dinner, are you hungry?”

“Sure, I could eat. I’m going to put my backpack away and then I’ll wash my hands if you need any help.”

Jason nods and gets to heating up the skillet before checking on the meat he left to marinate. 

He’s just placing one of the steaks on the heat when Zack walks in, “All right, what can I do?”

“You,” Jason says, turning, “can sit down. Let me worry about doing this. You’ve already made me food twice now.”

“Aw, are you trying to be romantic?”

Jason sighs, nudging the steak with his cooking tongs to hide his blush. He’s surprised when he feels Zack’s arms wrap around him from behind, “It’s cute and appreciated.” Zack says in amusement before he presses a kiss to the side of Jason’s neck and pats his stomach, “Okay, I’ll wait in the living room and order some pay-per-view porn. Don’t burn the place down igniting the candles for our candlelit dinner.”

Jason opens his mouth, face still pinking and Zack laughs again, “I’m kidding! Come on, seriously, I am feeling very doted on and it’s nice so I don’t know, you’ve made me nervous and flustered.”

Jason’s eyebrows raise in surprise as he half turns, facing Zack to his side, “You’re telling me I can actually make _you_ nervous?”

Zack rolls his eyes and tightens his arms around Jason, “Yeah, well, you make me a lot of things.”

Jason pokes at the steak again with a smile, “Good to know.” 

Zack lets out a tired sigh, “Ugh, okay, I’m leaving now. Get back to cooking.”

Before he pulls away, Jason holds onto his arm and twists around enough to lean forward for a kiss that Zack happily responds to.  
“I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

“Sure, sure.” Zack says, finally walking away. 

** 

Jason sets down the plates at the dining table after having finally convinced himself that the potatoes were seasoned well enough. When he steps out to the living room, he finds Zack sitting on his couch, and, to his amusement, he seems enthralled by a program on the television about paranormal ghost sightings. 

“So you weren’t kidding about wanting to tell ghost stories, were you?” and then laughs when he sees Zack jump in his seat.

“Word to the wise, if you’re trying to make someone a romantic meal, try not to give them a heart attack before they’ve had a chance to eat.” He stands from the couch, flipping the television off.

“Noted.” Jason replies a chuckle. 

“Food ready?”

“Yup.”

“Great, may your wooing me through food begin.”

“I really only know how to make a few things, so, I hope this is okay.” Jason says, taking his seat after Zack. 

“Well, I admit that this looks great so no complaints from me so far.” He picks up a fork before he stops and sets it down, “Oh, right.” he closes his eyes, bringing his hands together and lets Jason say Grace.

When he’s done, Zack picks up his fork again and a knife to take a piece of steak.

Jason looks over apprehensively from the corner of his eye and nearly drops his own utensils when Zack closes his eyes and moans. _Loud_.  
“Whoa, this is really good!”

“Uh,” Jason takes a sip of his drink as Zack opens his eyes again and looks at him in surprise, “Thank you? I’m um, glad?”

“You should be.” 

Jason shakes his head and laughs, managing to slice a piece to eat and then nearly chokes when Zack moans again, “The potatoes are _amazing_ too.”

Zack laughs then, around his mouthful, and swallows to look at Jason with a teasing grin, “Consider me woo’d.”

“Gratified to know I didn’t ruin my chances by forgetting the candles.”

“It was a close call.”

They eat in silence for a minute and then Zack takes a drink from his cup, “So I wasn’t really thinking about it until I was over there watching TV, but I can’t remember anything about how the Catholic Church feels about ghosts or spirits.”

Jason shrugs as he takes a drink, “There isn’t a set doctrine about ghosts in the sense of apparitions. There is a belief in the spiritual realm, but what that entails only God truly knows. And scripture acknowledges Heavenly messengers such as angels that may be thought of as an apparition, or there's also the concept of demons masquerading as spirits to tempt faith, as Corinthians mentions.”

Zack hums, "We sure did pick a religion that takes a lot of work."

"I'd call it gratifying." 

"Right now I guess it is, yeah," Zack replies, looking up at Jason with a wink and snorts when Jason bites his lip and shakes his head before he returns to eating.

“Oh, how did your mother’s acupuncture appointment go?”

Zack chuckles as he pierces a potato, “She was all about it. Started saying that had she known that place was nearby she would’ve gone months ago.”

“She get her ointments at a discount?”

“And a couple incense sticks they had because she liked the smell and claimed it might help her feel the effects of the treatment for a longer time if she could have the scent with her at home.”

“I’m beginning to wonder why she’s never run for office. I think she’d be good at it.”

Zack inclines his head in a grin as he eats, “She wouldn’t like the instability of the position. I imagine she’d probably be able to get a lot done just because people would give up arguing with her.”

“A leader you can trust to have the last word.”

*

When they’ve finished eating and Zack has thanked Jason for the meal, he stands with his plate and Jason rises right after him, “Whoa, no, I’m washing them this time.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me.”

“Is this you still trying to woo me and be romantic? Because trust me, you don’t have to wonder if you can get in my pants. We’ve established that already.”

“That’s um…” Jason shakes his head to clear those thoughts, “Let me just do them, please?”

“I’ll make you a deal: you wash, I’ll dry, and I’ll stop pointing out all your attempts at romantic overtures.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Jason mutters and sighs, “Fine. But only this time.”

“Whatever you say.”

* 

They fall into a rhythm as they wash and Jason is surprised when he sees how fast they’ve finished.

“See, totally better than just doing it yourself.” He bumps his hip against Jason’s beside him.

“I still could’ve done it.” he argues, uselessly. 

Zack wipes his hands clean and tosses the towel to Jason, “Yeah, well, you would’ve wasted important time.”

“Important, how?” Jason asks, setting the towel on the counter.

“Important like this,” Zack says before he crowds against Jason, dragging him into a long kiss.

Jason blinks, licking his lips on reflex, “Oh.”

“Yeah. Thank you for the meal, again... and so, about what I said before...” he wraps his arms around Jason’s neck, relaxing his body against his when Jason places his hands to the side of Zack’s hips.

“What’d you say before?” Jason asks, letting Zack press their lips together, nearly losing his footing when Zack begins to bodily walk them out towards the hallway.

It isn’t until they’re halfway to Jason’s bedroom door that Zack pulls back enough to whisper against Jason’s ear, “About you getting into my pants.”  
Zack bites Jason’s earlobe into his mouth when he feels him shiver against him and moves his hands to cradle Jason’s head between his, locking their lips together again.

When they pass the threshold of the door, Jason has moved to circle Zack’s back and feels himself walking backward in step towards his bed. As soon as he knows they’ve reached the edge of the bed, Zack pulls back from him and smirks before he pushes Jason down onto it. 

He waits until Jason has bounced from the impact and then he’s following him on, kneeling his way on the mattress while Jason scoots back until he’s sitting in the middle of the bed. And then Jason pulls Zack into another kiss. 

Zack’s hands feel down Jason’s chest until they reach the hem of his shirt and begins lifting it off. They pull away long enough to throw the shirt to the floor and for Zack to do the same to his own. Zack spreads his hands on the exposed skin as he latches his lips against Jason’s jaw, spreading kisses down his neck.  
He tugs at Jason’s pants then, leaning his body forward enough to press their lower half together and causing them both to groan at the sensation. 

“The things you do to me,” Zack whispers, pulling at the jeans again. 

The separate again, both sitting upright on the bed to take their pants off. Zack follows it by tossing his underwear to the corner of the bed and bites his lower lip when he pauses to catch Jason’s eyes after the does the same, his eyes dark.

Before Jason can do anything else, Zack moves forward to knee the bed again, and lowers his face to take Jason’s growing erection in his mouth. Jason gasps, his arms falling behind to hold him up while Zack kisses down his shaft and circles the tip with a moan that Jason echoes when he bobs down halfway, building him to fullness. 

“Zack,” Jason gasps, one of his hands coming up to rest on Zack’s shoulders as he’s taken deeper. When his breath grows quicker, body pulling tight, Jason moans Zack’s name again and gently pulls him up, groaning when Zack pulls off with slow swipe and pop.

Jason drops back against his pillows and brings Zack on top of him, his legs spreading around him and licks a sloppy kiss to his lips. 

Zack maneuvers his body on top of Jason and thrusts his hips slowly against him, moan muffled against their mouths.  
He does it once more before he’s dragging his hand down to take his and Jason’s cock in hand, pumping them together lazily. 

He moves his mouth to kiss down Jason’s neck, his hand still moving between them even as he continues to lower his head down Jason’s torso, pressing kisses everywhere he can.  
When Zack’s mouth reaches the muscles of Jason’s abs, he scoots back again, letting his own cock go but still keeping his hand warm around Jason’s. 

Jason’s breath catches when Zack’s lips envelope him again, his legs falling against he bed while Zack works him over. 

“I love how you taste.” Zack says, tonguing his slit and fisting the base of Jason’s cock. 

Jason can’t say anything, just holds his bottom lip between his teeth when he looks down and closes his eyes in a groan. His left hand comes down to run his fingers through Zack’s hair and Zack moans when he looks up to catch his eyes.

When Zack hollows his cheeks and pumps him quicker, Jason manages to sit up with a difficult amount of strength and loops his arms under Zack’s to pull him up again, knowing he’ll come otherwise, and not wanting it to be over yet. 

He wraps his arms around Zack, licking into his mouth as he turns them over on the bed, thighs pressing up against the back of Zack’s as Zack lifts his own legs to bring them closer together, calves crossing to keep Jason against him. 

Jason mouths down Zack’s neck, sucking a kiss below his ear as Zack wraps his arms around Jason, fingers digging into the hard muscle of his shoulder blades. 

Zack moans, ducking his head to capture Jason in a kiss again, their hips moving against each other slowly. 

When Zack slips a hand between their bodies again, Jason pulls back, his eyes closed and breathes against Zack as he reaches down to join Zack’s hand. After one, two pulls, Jason presses a long kiss against Zack’s mouth before he shifts down, letting his and Zack’s hand fall away to mouth at Zack’s cock. 

He’s never done anything like this before, but he lets his body take its own direction, encouraged by the broken sounds Zack makes.

With a groan, Zack’s hands clench the sheets under him and he moans at the feel of one of Jason’s hands caressing his thigh as it moves lower, nails digging in and pressing against each area curiously like he's trying to memorize the map of his skin.  
Then he’s gasping when Jason’s exploring fingers pass by the sensitive skin behind his scrotum even while he continues to suck Zack into his mouth in time with his heady breaths.

Jason reluctantly pulls up when Zack clenches his hair and calls his name. 

Zack's breath is quick as Jason leans over him, his eyes desperate, "I need you in me."

Jason just looks at him, his own breath hard and fast. “Are you sure? I mean,” he groans as Zack shifts his hip up to rub against Jason in silent answer.  
“Yeah,” he says then, unable to think clearly past the live current running through his body.

He watches uselessly as Zack turns to his side to reach at a bottom drawer beside Jason’s bed and pulls out a condom wrapper and small bottle of lube. 

“When did you…” Jason says, trailing off as he stares at Zack opening the wrapper. 

“Earlier when I came to leave my backpack. Had to buy this a town back when I was on my way back home” Zack replies, sitting up, free hand rubbing soothingly over Jason’s thighs, cock straining up between them. He kisses the hollow of Jason's throat, where, as Jason fleetingly notes, his collar typically sits against, "Just in case." 

Zack moves to place the condom down Jason’s shaft and Jason still can’t seem to think or focus on anything other than how Zack’s hand looks as he rolls the condom on him.

“Oh.” Jason says belatedly in reply, taking the bottle of lube Zack places in his palm before he watches Zack sit back against the sheets, unabashedly spreading his legs open.  
“Okay.” He says at the sight of Zack spread out on his sheets and then nods his head and swallows, “okay.” 

He hesitates for a second, unsure how exactly to do this, before he coats his index and middle finger with lube and shuffles forward, knowing at least that he needs to prepare Zack. And that thought is dizzying in itself. 

“Come on, you won’t hurt me.” Zack says in encouragement, carefully wrapping his hand around Jason’s wrist, directing his hand down. 

“I can do it for you if it’ll be easier,” Zack suggests when Jason hesitates again.

Jason shakes his head, swallows audibly, “No, I want—“ his index finger hovers for a second, “I want to do it.” he finishes before slowly circling the finger around Zack’s rim. 

He repeats the motion for a handful of seconds, glancing up once to see Zack’s chest rising and falling rapidly before he slowly begins pressing the finger in. 

Zack gasps above him, eyes closing and hand coming to wrap around his cock. Using the sounds Zack makes and the responses of his body, Jason carefully begins pulling his finger out and then presses back in to the knuckle.  
Jason repeats it until he can feel Zack relaxing against the intrusion and his finger is moving in and out freely. 

Mouth dry, Jason grabs the bottle of lube with his free hand and squirts a small amount against his finger, making it more slippery and quickens the pace until he has Zack moaning above him. He pauses to bend down and press a kiss to Zack’s hip before he begins to add in his middle finger alongside his index, causing Zack to squeeze at the base of his own cock.  
Once he has both fingers moving freely, he’s considering adding a third but then Zack is murmuring his name, “Now, please, Jason. Just do it now—I won’t be able to…just _now_.”

Jason nods, slowing the push and pull of his fingers before pulling them out completely and grabs the bottle again, dripping the lube over the latex of the condom. 

He pumps himself once, feels goosebumps spread down his arms knowing what he’s about to do—what they are going to do together—and moves forward, lining himself against Zack’s entrance.  
When he looks up, he locks his eyes with Zack, wants to ask Zack if he’s sure a second time, but holds his tongue at the hunger he sees in his eyes, wonders if his own look the same. 

He begins pressing in instead, his eyes closing when Zack lets out an appreciative moan.  
“Yeah, keep it—just do it slow like that, oh fuck… like that, keep going.”

Jason feels a light dusting of sweat above his brow in restraining himself to the slow press. It feels like nothing he’s every experienced before and he thinks that this feeling is a dangerous one, but one he's willing to get lost in if it means being this close to Zack.  
Once he’s fully seated in, Zack’s legs shakily come to box Jason in, breath hard. 

Jason’s eyes are pinched shut as he stops still, letting Zack grow accustomed to the feel of him inside.

“Okay,” Zack rasps after a few seconds, “pull back a little—slow.”

Jason does as he’s told, pulling back out halfway and stops when Zack tells him to. The heels of Zack’s feet press behind him and he allows the pressure to guide him back in.  
His body is quivering from the stimulation of it all and then the pressure behind him disappears and he feels Zack relax around him, “Go.” Zack says then.

Jason’s hands wrap on either side of Zack’s hips, pressing back in a little faster this time and pulling out slowly.

Zack hums out a long groan when Jason begins to set a rhythm, “You feel so good.”

“You—you, too.” Jason exhales.

Jason loses himself to the feeling, and he bends his body down over Zack, his breaths coming out in short huffs against Zack’s neck where he leaves open-mouthed kisses at the feel of Zack clenching around him in intervals. 

He feels Zack’s hand in his hair, pulling it lightly enough to lift Jason’s face up to capture his lips. 

Jason’s hips stutter for a second when Zack’s teeth bite Jason’s lower lip tenderly before soothing it with his tongue. And Jason can’t think of or feel anything besides Zack all around him—absorbing his every sense until he’s chanting Zack’s name like one of his prayers. 

Zack’s hips begin pushing up to meet Jason’s thrusts, his kisses turning sloppy even as his fingertips bite into the flesh of Jason’s slippery-from-sweat back. 

Jason’s hand moves between their bodies then, his knuckles pressing against the quiver in Zack’s stomach before he wraps his hand around Zack, following the rhythm of his thrusts that has Zack shouting out his name, helplessly. Zack latches his mouth against Jason’s neck to muffle the shouts, sucking and biting a bruise to the skin that spurs Jason to go quicker, faster, losing some of his rhythm in the process.

Jason senses Zack coming undone even before Zack manages to grit the words out and he cries out, Jason’s hand becoming slick from Zack’s release. 

Jason’s back arches when Zack clenches tight against him and he gives two more hard thrusts before he’s letting go, Zack’s name dragged from his mouth as he comes, hand on Zack’s hip clenching hard enough to possibly bruise. 

He falls forward, Zack catching him in his arms, moaning as his hips still lift of their own accord to the last lazy thrusts from Jason. When Jason finally stops, he’s gasping for breath against Zack’s neck with one of Zack’s hands buried in his hair, while the other runs fluidly across his back. 

Jason steadies his breath long enough to lift his head up, meeting Zack’s open-mouthed kiss with a tired but heady energy.

When they pull away, Jason presses his forehead to Zack’s temple and then slowly lifts himself up, both of them wincing when he pulls his spent cock out and then takes the condom off, tying it closed. With one last deep breath, he looks down at Zack, languid and catching his breath against the sheets, and moves to stand from the bed. 

“I’ll be right back,” he breaths, his first steps against he ground heavy as he makes his way to the bathroom. He throws the condom in the trash can and catches his eyes in the mirror as he wets a hand towel at the sink.  
He looks flushed, lips red, and skin shiny from his sweat. He can also see a red bruise blooming on his neck. But more than that, he sees a brightness in his eyes that makes him catch his breath briefly. Before he returns to the bedroom, he doubles back to the kitchen, quickly filling a cup with water, gulping down some of it before refilling it, and returns to his room with it in hand.

Zack hasn’t moved on the bed apart from shifting his head in a more comfortable position. When he sees Jason walk in, he smiles and Jason can’t help but return it. 

“Here, let me,” Jason says, kneeing his way back onto the bed beside Zack’s body as he hands him the cup of water. Zack takes the cup with a thanks and drinks from it as Jason runs the towel over his skin, cleaning the residue of come and lube as best he can. 

When he’s done, he tosses the towel across the room to his laundry basket. 

Zack sets the glass down on the table beside him and turns to his side while Jason does the same. They don’t say anything, watching each other instead. Jason raises his hand to palm the side of Zack’s face and Zack mimics the movement. Then Jason slides his hand down, fingers skating over Zack’s lips that look as red and raw and Jason’s had been when he looked in the mirror. Zack’s mouth opens then, tongue gliding forward to pull the two fingers Jason had used to open him up earlier into his mouth and gives them a half-hearted suck. He smirks when Jason’s breath catches—unnoticed if it wasn’t so quiet in the room, and lets the fingers drop from his mouth.  
“I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.” Zack whispers and falls into snickering laugh when he sees the awareness in Jason’s eyes. 

“Sorry,” Jason says then and shuts his mouth quickly when Zack gives him a dry look.

“I meant it in a good way.”

“Oh.”

Zack shakes his head fondly and then reaches down below them to pull the comforter up over them when he sees Jason holding back a yawn.

“What time is it?” Jason asks, imagining it can’t be too late yet.

“Doesn’t matter, let’s just lie here.”

“Okay.”

Zack leans forward, wrapping his arm over Jason’s shoulder and kisses him soundly. He pulls back, smug smile on his face when he catches the small noise of satisfaction from Jason’s throat. 

Jason sighs, “Yeah, yeah,” he whispers in exasperation, rolling onto his back as he pulls Zack half on top of him and kisses the smile off his face, allowing his body to relax against the bed and the warm, comfortable weight of Zack on him. 

**

Jason wakes up to lips light against his. 

He quietly whines when he feels the warmth pulling away and wraps his arms around the body to bring it back.

“Jason…” is said in warning.

With a hum, Jason settles closer to the body until he can feel the warm skin pressed against his own. 

A whispered curse and then the lips are back, wet and hard, making Jason quietly groan in approval. 

A few seconds later, the lips are pulling away and Jason opens his eyes, and just like that, his thoughts are lost in how attractive Zack looks in the morning—skin slightly pink and hair mussed, looking at Jason like he’s accusing him of trying to entice him.

“Jason,” Zack tries again.

“Hm?” Jason asks, unable to stifle a yawn.

“We slept in a little late.”

“Wha—“ Jason pushes himself up on his elbows and rubs the sleep from his eyes as he turns to look at the clock. 

10:30 AM. 

“Oh. That is…yeah, that’s late…okay.” 

“Yup.” Zack says and runs a hand through his hair, “I think we have time for a quick shower and we should probably go.”

Jason nods, sitting up to let the comforter pool at his waist, “Right, yeah.”

“Um, and we should probably shower separately,” Zack says then and Jason looks up to Zack staring at the skin above the comforter. “Don’t think it’d be all that productive otherwise. At least not in a way that would be convenient for either of us.”

“Probably…” Jason agrees, still comfortable from sleep. 

Zack sighs in reluctance and stands then, “Okay I’ll go first so you can get together anything you need for the Church.” He riffles though his backpack, pulling out a change of clothes and then walks out of the room, finally allowing Jason to tear his eyes away from him. 

When he hears the shower turn on, Jason falls against his pillows and let’s out a long breath. His muscles ache a little, but in a good way, and it makes Jason want to turn his face into the sheets beneath him to breath in a scent that is still wrapped around him.

He turns his head to the clock again and closes his eyes in exhaustion.  
He should have set an alarm. 

*

By the time both Jason and Zack have dressed, Jason grabs a folder that he and Father Schiff put together for the fundraiser. He stops in the bathroom to look himself over quickly, sending a small grateful prayer that the collar of his clerical shirt covers the mark on his neck. Zack is waiting for him in the living room, backpack slung over his shoulder. 

Jason wishes that they didn’t have to leave just yet, but a voice inside his head reminds him of his duty to the Church. It sends a prickle of guilt that crawls down his spine and he tries to shake it off before it can seep into something deeper that he’s been avoiding.  
“Ready?” 

“Not really, but let’s go before I change my mind and drag you back to bed.” Zack jokes, and then opens the door to step outside. 

*

When Jason pulls into the parking lot, he finds his usual parking spot, and then steps out of the car with Zack.

“Father Scott?”

Jason’s eyes widen as he turns around, finds the familiar face of Mrs. Munroe shuffling towards him, look of relief on her face until she comes closer and notices Zack trying but failing to duck behind Jason’s car.

“Zack, is that you?”

Zack clears his throat, “Uh, oh yeah, dropped my phone, sorry.” he says, holding his phone up as evidence. “I came early to help Father Scott get some things together. We uh… we went to make sure the people bringing the tables for the fundraiser were still scheduled for the right time…”

She looks confused and glances between the two and shakes her head, seemingly trying to rationalize her own narrative. “Well, I hope I’m not—I mean, I thought I remember see—“ she furrows her brows and shakes her head again, turning to Jason, “Sorry, I tried to come by last night but I guess it was late already and you’re not here on Fridays, but since I saw—“ she glances at Zack, “Or, I could have sworn—“ she sighs, chuckles to herself with another shake of the head, “Anyway, I got here a little bit ago hoping I’d see you to ask about something for the fundraiser… seems a little silly now, but I wanted to know if there’s going to be any high chairs for the potluck. I have a baby carriage and high chair at home for Lita, but I wasn’t sure if I should bring both or just the carriage. I thought of bringing both just in case I didn’t catch you before then, but well, I guess I wanted to just check first.”

Jason tries to calm the beating of his chest, can’t bring himself to even look at Zack who seems to have remembered he’s holding his backpack and has casually and discretely set it down on the ground.  
“Um…Oh! No…that is—I mean to say that it’s not a silly question at all." He clears his throat as an excuse to buy himself a moment, "We—Father Schiff and I—organized to have at least five available high chair seats… I—” he licks his lips, “I suppose I should have mentioned this last week. I apologize for your having to use your valuable time trying to reach me, Mrs. Munroe.”

She laughs in a way that's a little more relaxed, “Oh no, don’t worry about that, it’s been a good excuse to put my husband on Lita’s diaper duty while I drove down here.” She clasps her hands together, still looking just a bit uncomfortable and glances between the two of them one last time, “Well, I’m glad to hear about the chairs and I appreciate your having already thought to settle that issue. I should have known you would. We’re all looking forward to it, the fundraiser,” she looks at Zack then, “We all sure are glad to be able to help your Momma any way we can and happy she’s letting us show her how much we care.”

Zack swallows and gives her a grateful and warm smile, “Thank you, Mrs. Munroe. We really appreciate it—I know my mom does even though she’ll be hard pressed to admit it aloud.”

Mrs. Munroe waves him off with a smile.

“And know that I’m waiting for those babysitting duties whenever you and Mr. Munroe are ready for a little vacation.”

“Oh now, don’t think I’m not planning one already,” she replies with a hearty laugh and then clears her throat, “Well now, time for me to head back home. Got a few more jars of preserves to can up and I want to make sure Lita takes a long nap before later so she’s not as fussy.”

“Of course,” Jason smiles, hands resting behind his back in a comfortable stance, “Can’t wait to get my hands on one of those myself.”

Mrs. Munroe beams at that, “I’ll make sure I top one for you extra full.”

She excuses herself then, both Zack and Jason copying her wave goodbye. 

Once they can make out her car pulling out onto the street, Jason exhales a long shaky breath. 

“Oh my God.” he hears Zack whisper, and he can’t even find it in him to be bothered by his use of His name in that way while they’re standing on the Church grounds.

“I didn’t even notice her car there…she—“ Zack finally steps around to where Jason stands frozen, “I’m almost sure she believed me about us just having gone to check on the tables.” He stops and looks at Jason in silence. “Jason?”

Jason blinks, pulled back from the thoughts racing through his head when Zack places his hand on his shoulder. “Yeah,” he says then, “Yeah, I hope—I think you’re right.” 

“She did, Jason. Besides, there’s really nothing else she could have thought. She only saw us get out of your car.”

Jason closes his eyes, bites his lip into his mouth. Zack is right. His paranoia has been escalating for weeks now and he’s been becoming overwhelmed with trying to find a balance between everything in his life.  
He tries to stand in Mrs. Munroe’s shoes, convinces himself of the indifference and composure that he forced himself to present for her even though he felt sirens pulsing in his ears the moment she called his name. 

He takes another long breath, letting his body relax the way it does when he readies himself for prayer. 

After a few seconds, he nods, body calmer. He turns to Zack, attempts to give him a reassuring smile, “It’s fine. You’re right. I got so caught up in the surprise of seeing her that it just made me panic.”

Zack visibly relaxes, looks like he needed Jason’s reassurance as much as Jason needed his. “Okay. Yeah, good.” He closes his eyes, tilts his face up to the sky, and takes a deep breath that he slowly let’s out. “Well I—“ he shifts his face back down, and looks at Jason, “I guess I should leave too?” 

He phrases it like a question and Jason grounds himself in Zack’s eyes then, uses the warmth and affection he’s come to associate with Zack to give him a genuine smile, “Yes, it’s fine—really. In a few hours it’ll pass and everything will just be like before.” He punctuates it by grazing his thumb over Zack’s wrist beside him, “I’ll see you later.”

Zack nods with a small, quiet laugh under his breath, “Yeah, I’m sure we will.” He grazes Jason’s hand back and begins to walk away, “Make sure you have room for all the food later.”

“I will.”

Once Jason watches Zack drive away, he runs his hand through his still wet hair and freezes. 

He wonders if she noticed the fact that both he and Zack looked like they had just stepped out of the shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think it says something about the whole process of this story that trying to decide who was going to top took longer than anything else i wrote in this fic. by which i mean it took 3 coin tosses. 
> 
> ALSO little amusing side-note is that i had actually been curious on what catholicism says about ghosts (i've been known to look up things that ultimately end up spooking me out and then i'm texting ppl about how i'm too scared to go out into the bathroom at night) and anyway, i googled it and the first link i clicked on was [this one](http://www.catholiclane.com/do-catholics-believe-in-ghosts/). check out the first paragraph, fourth sentence. it was a very x-files moment and a strange coincidence so i took it as a sign to throw that in here a bit, sans the stair falling.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i started watching the tv series 'the exorcist' bc lead character poncho herrera as a priest and mannnn i totally missed some opportunities with this fic, let me TELL you.

A number of people have begun to arrive and set up their items on the tables. 

Jason lost track of time for the second time that day when he absorbed himself in his prayers, somewhat troubled that it took a longer amount of focus to fall into the familiar state of grace in doing so. 

Now he navigates between carrying heavier items over to tables, and warmly greeting those who arrive. 

When Mrs. Munroe had come in with her husband and Lita, she sought Jason out, handing him a jar of her preserves and with a held promise that he would tell her the truth on whether he liked it or not even after he assured her it was unlikely she could ever make something that he didn’t like. 

Father Schiff had also arrived and was currently being pulled into lengthy conversations by those around him. 

When Mrs. Taylor and Zack arrive, he’s surprised to see Mr. Kapoor walking in behind them, their hands full with aluminum trays. 

Jason quickly steps in to direct them towards an empty table and watches as Zack exhales in exaggeration after he sets the tray he was carrying down. Mr. Kapoor mimics the gesture, eyes bright with humor when he sees Mrs. Taylor roll her eyes at them, “They are not so heavy,” she says.

“Mama, there’s enough braised spare ribs and e-fu noodles here to feed double the amount of people here.”

“I do hope someone thought to bring take-home containers,” Mr. Kapoor nods, glancing around the room before settling his eyes on Jason, “Ah, Father Scott, forgive me for not greeting you yet.”

Jason shakes his hand, “Well you had your hands plenty full. I’m glad to see you here.” 

“Well when I found out today was the fundraiser, I just had to come; although, it’s too bad I didn’t know sooner or else I could have brought something too apart from my extensive movie recommendations—say!” He taps his finger over his chin, eyes scrutinizing Jason, “have you seen the film _I Confess_? Under-appreciated Hitchcock classic, that one—and relevant to your life work—though I hope you never find yourself in the particular position the lead character does. _Ikiru_ might also serve your interest… though it leaves one with a heavy heart.” 

Jason chuckles and shakes his head, “I haven’t seen either one, to be honest.”

“Well! I’ll get those to you soon, not to worry.”

“Thank you in advance, then.”

Mr. Kapoor nods, satisfied. 

“Father Scott, very good to see you again,” Mrs. Taylor says then, allowing Jason to take her hand between his in greeting.

“Same to you, Mrs. Taylor, and I’m sure everyone will love what you brought _and_ that you brought so much, considering there’s more people than either Father Schiff or I could have hoped.”

“Thank you, Father Scott.” she pats his hand, “I must also say hello to Father Schiff, but you will know you are my handsome favorite,” she let’s his hand go with a squeeze and laughs in delight at Jason’s peek of blush,“It does not become tired to see your pink cheeks.”  
She turns to Zack then, “Come, Zack, we say hello to Father Schiff now. You too, Mr. Kapoor.”

Jason glances over at Zack, catching his eyes briefly in a private smile.

“Of course, Mama. Nice to see you, Father Scott.”

When Jason nods at their retreating forms, he feels like someone is watching him, but when he looks around, he only manages to catch Mrs. Nylund bustling in with her husband and he moves to greet them.

*

Jason excuses himself from the table he and Father Schiff had been sharing with several guests as they ate. The day before last, he had withdrawn a couple hundred dollars from his account with the intentions of slipping them into the box they’ve set at a main table.  
He had fully intended to slip the money into the box before people arrived, but his thoughts had been distracted. 

Since he is overseeing Mass later, Father Schiff would be taking care of putting everything in order with other Church workers, so he has to manage a way to slip the money in now.  
He contemplates asking Zack to do it, but decides that might look worse if Mrs. Taylor sees Zack do it, and he’d also rather not have Zack thinking he owes him anymore than he’s already given him. 

As he’s walking across the space under the pretense of going to the bathroom, Jason spots the table where Mrs. Taylor and Zack sit. Zack’s back is to him, but he can tell from way the muscles in his back have lifted, that he’s laughing at something Mr. Kapoor has said. And with that, Jason sighs in relief, realizing he could ask Mr. Kapoor to do him the favor. 

He makes his way to the table, smiles when Mrs. Taylor looks up, eyes welcoming. 

“Father Scott, would you like to sit?” she asks. 

He can feel Zack turning to look at him and has a difficult time not looking back at him, “Actually, I wondered if I couldn’t borrow Mr. Kapoor for a minute.” He looks to him, “There’s something I need to bring in and I hoped you wouldn’t mind helping me carry it. And uh, perhaps you can tell me a little more about those movies you recommended me.”

“Why, of course, Father Scott!” he says, already moving to stand. 

“You sure I couldn’t help you?” Zack asks then.

Jason looks at him then, feels a compulsion to touch him. He smiles in good nature and then gives in to his compulsion a little by setting his hand on Zack’s shoulder in a friendly gesture, “No, please, you and your mother please enjoy yourselves, this won’t take more than a minute or two.”

It’s enough for Zack to relax under his touch and Jason pulls his hand away, “If you’ll excuse us,” he says, glancing to Mrs. Taylor and Zack as Mr. Kapoor stands over to him. 

Once they begin walking to an area behind the Church, Mr. Kapoor speaks, “Now then, I don’t want to give too much away about either film, but they have some elements of Catholicism that you may notice—one _clearly_ more overt than the other, but—“

“Um, Mr. Kapoor.” Jason stops then once they’re out of sight, and watches as Mr. Kapoor pauses in his steps, one finger raised in midair as he was expressing his point. 

“Yes?”

“I hope you won’t be upset with me, but there was a different reason for why I wanted to ask you for some assistance.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, something I hope you’ll agree to,” he begins, digging his hand into his pant pocket and pulls out several folded bills.

“Father Scott, please do not take offense when I say this, but I’m afraid I cannot be bribed to join the Church no matter how much I like you.”

“Bribed?” Jason says, confused and then laughs, “Oh, no, Mr. Kapoor, I’m sorry but you misunderstood. I wanted to know if you wouldn’t mind putting this money into the donation box for me. I didn’t want Mrs. Taylor catching me do it.”

“Well now I’m just embarrassed,” Mr. Kapoor laughs, hand against his temple as he shakes his head. “Please forgive me, Father Scott, I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course I will do you this wonderful favor. I know a thing or two about sneaking things in past dear Mrs. Taylor after working with her.”

“Thank you,” Jason says, still grinning as he hands Mr. Kapoor the money. He sighs in relief, “Now, how about you tell me about those films again on our way back?”

Mr. Kapoor beams, slipping the money into his pocket carefully, as they turn to make their way back, “So, as I was saying, I’m sure you can tell by it’s title alone, but _I Confess_ centers around a priest, you see, bound to his religious duties, while _Ikiru_ centers on another protagonist trying to find meaning in his life…”

**

Mass is more energetic this time around; although, Jason notes, with some mild concern, that Mrs. Taylor had looked a bit distracted and ill at ease. He saw Zack noticing it as well, but, unsurprisingly, she waved him off. Jason sent a quiet prayer of thanks that she would be receiving her first treatment by the coming week. 

Apart from that, the fundraiser seems to have left everyone in high spirits by the time Jason brings the day to a close. “Before we finish here tonight,” Jason says, addressing everyone as Father Schiff walks in to stand beside him, “Father Schiff and I would like to personally thank everyone for participating in the fundraiser…”

“Even if you only showed up to eat like I did,” Father Schiff quips, joining in the laughter at that. 

“That’s right,” Jason continues, “We hope the next one will be as successful as this one was and in time we will be able to create an advanced schedule in the coming months for the next ones—perhaps switch around to Sunday for those who were unable to make it today.”

“And I’d like to thank those Sunday regulars in my Parish for making the time to make it today. I expect you all to have a good night’s rest today, bellies full.” Father Schiff adds. 

When they jointly close Mass, Father Schiff turns to Jason and hands him a heavy envelope, “I rounded up a few digits here and there after counting the total donations. While that meant this is more than her agreed 60%, I’m sure there was a 60% somewhere in the calculations.” He says with a wink. “Be sure not to tell her that first part, though.”

Jason smiles, grateful and makes his way in search of Mrs. Taylor. He finds her by the door with Zack standing beside her, looking a little uneasy at the way his mother seems lost in thought. By the time Jason reaches them, he has to call out her name for her to look up. When she does, her eyes widen and she seems to come back to her surroundings.

“Everything all right, Mrs. Taylor?” Jason asks, concerned. 

“I—” she glances around and wipes at her face, “Yes, I apologize Father…Father Scott. I think I am just tired.”

“Of course,” Jason says, soothingly, “You’ve had a long day, I’m sure, especially with that drive from your cousin’s house earlier.”

Her eyes sharpen a bit at that, “You know I stay with cousin Li-Lin?”

Jason looks confused for a second, “Yes, uh, your son Zack mentioned it to me.”

She turns to Zack then who is also looking a little confused at his mother. “Yeah, mama, why, what’s wrong?”

“When—“ she rubs over her face again and shakes her head, “Ah, never mind, forgive me again, Father Scott, I think perhaps I go to bed soon.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Mrs. Taylor, please, do not let me take more of your time. Father Schiff and I only wished to give you this before you go.” He hands her the envelope but she hesitates enough that Zack takes it instead and thanks Jason, eyes sending a message that says he’s as unsettled by her turn of health as Jason seems to be. 

She seems to come back to herself a second time then, glances at the envelope in Zack’s hand and then looks between her son and Jason. She nods her head to herself and holds her hand out to Jason, “Thank you very much, Father Scott, I am welcomed by your and Father Schiff’s thanks and I hope to thank everyone here personally when I am in better condition.”

“Absolutely, Mrs. Taylor. I hope you have a good rest and remember that we are here if you need anything.”

She nods, let’s Zack take her arm as he thanks Jason himself, and walks them away after another glance at Jason.

** 

Before Jason sleeps that night, he sends a text message to Zack, asking if his mother is okay.

It isn’t until his eyes are beginning to close that he gets a reply. “I don’t know. She hasn’t really spoken to me since we got here. She said she was just tired. Going to just check on her through the night. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’m here if you need me.” Jason sends back, mind worried as he falls asleep.

** 

Jason has just stepped out of the shower when he hears the chime of his cell phone. 

When he picks it up, he looks at the message Zack sent him and feels his stomach drop.  
“My mom found out.”

Jason feels his vision blur as he drops himself onto the edge of his bed, hand loose around his phone.  
His mind is a white noise and his heart feels like a jackhammer. He doesn’t know what to do. 

He let’s his phone drop from his hand. He feels like he’s going to be sick as he covers his face with his hands, body curling in on itself.

And then his phone is ringing. He tears his hands away, looking down at his phone on the floor, caller ID displaying Zack’s name.  
His hand shakes as he reaches down to pick it up, a noise of frustration crying out from his throat when it takes him three times for his phone to register his attempt to answer the call.

Jason raises the phone to his ear.  
He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to because Zack is already speaking.

“Last night she asked me how it was going with fixing your truck. I told her I had finished it the day I took her to the acupuncture. I thought it was weird, her asking, but I thought maybe everything with the fundraiser made her think of it…” he trails off for a second and Jason hears him swallow against the receiver, “Then this morning she starts asking these other questions—they seemed a little casual at first like asking in a teasing way what I did the night before while she stayed at her cousin’s house just home alone and not having to make sure she took her medication. Then it was what time did I wake up the day before and if I had breakfast before picking her up. And she just…she asked when I told you that she was at her cousin’s house.” Jason feels his stomach clench and his throat burns at the sensation of bile creeping up.  
“I told her I mentioned it yesterday during the fundraiser but she just looked at me like she didn’t believe me. And then that’s when she just tells me that Mrs. Munroe mentioned seeing me at the Church in the morning, asking if we had any car troubles because she had seen my car at the parking lot last night when she went looking for you and how it was still in the same spot when she returned the morning after. I just—“ 

Jason holds his breath, listens to the way that Zack seems to be breathing unsteadily. Once his breath has found some semblance of balance, Zack speaks again, “I never even saw them talking. It must have…I went to the bathroom once, when I came back, she wasn’t at the table with Mr. Kapoor and I didn’t think much of it, but—when she came back, that was when she started acting a little different. She asked Mr. Kapoor to take the leftovers for her when he left and she even avoided looking at me a few times. I thought maybe she forgot to take her medication when she wasn’t at home and felt guilty about telling me she forgot it, not that… Jason I had to tell her the truth.”

Jason closes his eyes then, sets his phone down on his leg to cup his hand over his mouth, knowing he’s going to vomit if he doesn’t steady his breathing. He sits there for what feels like several minutes, even though it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. When his mind clears enough from the wave that ripples through his body, he can make out the voice of Zack calling out from his phone.  
He picks it up quickly, Zack's voice repeating his name against his ear. 

“I—“ Jason starts, his voice sounds foreign to his own ears. He swallows, grimaces when he feels the burning drift of saliva down his throat, “I’m here,” he manages to croak out. 

“I’m so sorry, Jason. I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

Jason shakes his head once, eyes still closed, then he does it more fervently, realizes Zack can’t see him, “No,” he says then. “Zack stop. This isn’t your fault, stop saying that. I’m the one who didn’t think—it was me who brought up her staying at her cousin’s, I didn’t check the parking lot before we went in, I—“ he stops when Zack says his name, it sounds broken when he speaks, “Don’t do that, too,” he begs. 

Jason stops, slumps his shoulders. He can’t take hearing Zack this way. He wishes he could reach through the phone to him. 

“Where is she now?”

Zack is quiet on the other line and Jason waits, angry at himself for having even put the phone down earlier when Zack needs him just as much.

“She made me take her to the acupuncture again, of all places. She just sat there after I told her the truth; that I—that we…she just sat there and then asked me to bring here here. Now I’m just sitting in my car outside. I don’t know how long she’s going to be in there or what she’s going to say when she gets out. I don’t know anything.”

“Should I…I should speak with her,” Jason insists then.

“No, Jason, I don’t think,” he sighs. He sounds exhausted. “Not right now. I think she wants some space to think right now and—“ he stops, “I think she’s walking outside now. Jason, I’ll—let me try to speak to her again. I’ll try to let you know anything later, if I can.”

He hangs up before Jason can reply.

* 

Several hours pass and Jason hasn’t moved from his bed. For the first hour after the call with Zack, Jason had stared down at his phone, thoughts blank. 

By the second hour, he let himself feel every point of panic, guilt, and fear that he had been denying himself for weeks now. 

The third hour that passes consists of his lying in bed, eyes closed, thoughts on Zack. 

During the fourth hour, he prays. 

*

Jason barely manages to bring himself to eat something by the time the sun is beginning to set. He tried earlier, but couldn’t keep it down. It stays this time, but just barely. He doesn’t feel hungry, but his body had been weak without having eaten. 

He still hasn’t gotten any contact from Zack. 

An hour ago, he forcibly convinced himself to not drive over to his house.

He sits now on his couch, head against his armrest while his legs are bent atop the cushions. 

He falls asleep like that an hour later, phone sitting on the table in front of him and waiting for a message that never comes. 

*

Jason winces at the crick in his neck when he wakes up, slightly disoriented. He slept through the night on the couch. He hears a knock on his door and it’s then that he realizes what had woken him up in the first place. 

He stands quickly, ignoring the pain that shoots down his body from it and reaches to open the door. 

“Mrs. Taylor?”

“Father Scott.” She clears her throat, “May I come in?”

He feels his mouth open and close uselessly before he closes it, “Yes, of course.” Jason steps back, letting her walk in. 

She glances around the room. It reminds Jason of the first time Zack came to his house and he feels a pang in his chest. He looks over her shoulder for a second before he closes the door.

“He is at work,” she says then as she slips off her shoes.

“Oh.”

“Mr. Kapoor drive me here,” she further explains.

“Okay.” 

She steps to his dining room and carefully sets her purse down on the table, quiet. 

Jason doesn’t know what to do. Regrets that he must look haggard from his restless sleep, “Would you like some tea?” 

“Please.”

Jason practically runs to his kitchen, “Sugar or milk?”

“As is will be fine, thank you,” she replies, carefully setting herself down on a dining room chair.

When he hurries over to her, setting her cup down in front of her, Jason wipes his hands over his pants.

“Please, sit,” she says, hand motioning to the empty chair. 

He sits, watches as she takes a sip of her tea. Her face makes an indiscernible expression that smoothes out after a second, “Zack’s tea,” she murmurs and seemingly chuckles to herself with a shake of her head. 

Jason doesn’t say anything. 

She looks up then, eyes soft. Then Jason watches as her eyes glance to something on Jason’s neck and his eyes widen in mortification, _knowing_ what she must be looking at, that his loose-fitted shirt doesn’t cover. 

She drifts her eyes back down to her cup and doesn’t say anything for several seconds.

“I know of you and my Zack,” she says, finally, eyes still downcast.

“I—yes, I know,” Jason replies softly.

She nods her head as if she expected he would also know. 

“Mrs. Taylor I—“ he stops at her raised hand.

“Please, Father Scott. I do not need you to explain and I do not wish to hear you offer regret. I would not want that for my Zack just as you do not deserve to have regret; it would be unnecessary and of distaste.” 

She takes another sip of her tea and sits back in her chair, eyes fully resting on Jason now. Her eyes search his before she seems to settle on something, “I believe I knew about this for long while now. Since hospital,” she nods, agreeing with the words, “Perhaps before then. Zack always so expressive since he was little boy. I know him from his eyes. I see he look at you sometimes the way he does when he is happy—how he look at things he love.”

Jason bites his lip, finds himself tearing his eyes away to look down at the table, a pang rippling through his chest. 

He only looks up when he feels her hand come to rest over his. “And you, what is it you feel when you see Zack?”

Jason releases his lip when he feels the sting of pain and takes a deep breath, swallows, “I don't—" he sighs, briefly closes his eyes as he feels that familiar sensation that forms when he focuses his thoughts on Zack. "I think I love him, Mrs. Taylor. I haven’t said those words to him, but they feel real and true as I’m saying them aloud right now.” He keeps his eyes closed, wonders if it’s possible for one’s heart to break through their chest. Even in the privacy of his thoughts, Jason hasn’t thought to materialize this feeling that has been building in him for a couple weeks now, but sitting here with her, it's all he can think to say. 

“Yes,” she says, patting his hand, “You do.”

“But I shouldn’t.” Jason says then, eyes opening as he looks at her, “I’m—I have a devotion to the Church. What I’ve let happen…the way I’ve betrayed you and everyone who has entrusted a part of their faith to me…it’s inexcusable. It’s been a selfish drive to celebrate among you while in a state of mortal sin.”

“I do not know the ways of God, Father Scott. I hear what he teach from what you explain and share. But I also know and believe that God only wish for people to find love and meaning in life.” She sighs, squeezes his hand, “You have good heart, Father Scott. I tell you this before and I say it now. I believe God want you to be happy just as I believe he want my Zack to be happy—and myself. Zack finding happiness is what makes me happy and he is happy with you. I cannot ask for more or less. I wish you did not need to keep secret—that is what make me upset. But my faith, Father Scott, that you always have.”

Jason blinks back a stinging in his eyes.  
He tries to speak but finds himself choking over his words. 

He swallows then and lets out a shaky breath when she takes his other hand in her’s, tightening her grip over both hands across the table. He holds his tongue to smile brokenly at her, “Thank you, Mrs. Taylor. The secret is something I hope you will let me apologize for if nothing else. And…” he takes another shaky breath, closes his eyes briefly and opens them again, “I cannot allow myself to continue with the Church—not when I have this secret. I will speak to Father Schiff and tell him everything so he can find someone else to replace me.”

“You will not leave Church,” she says then, stern and unshakable. 

“Mrs. Taylor—“

“No. You must not have fear of your feelings for Zack, but you will not leave. I and others will not allow it.”

“I do appreciate the sentiment, Mrs. Taylor, but I really do not believe people will feel that same way when they find out.”

She let’s go of his hands then, startling Jason when she stands from her chair abruptly, “No, Father Scott, _you_ do not understand. But you will see. You may speak to Father Schiff but I will not allow you to leave.”  
She grabs her purse and then sets it back down, “Please stand, Father Scott, it is polite to stand when guest is leaving.”

He’s standing before she even finishes her sentence, and she nods in satisfaction, “Okay.” And then Jason is again surprised when he feels her arms wrap around his back. He does the same around her by instinct. She feels small in his arms—fragile, but the pressure she uses around him and the pat of her hand on his back greatly contrasts it. “You will come to dinner again soon to have proper meal as my Zack’s boyfriend.”

Jason chokes on his spit when she pats him again and pulls away, her hands on either side of his arms and nods in appreciation, “My Zack find good handsome boyfriend,” she slides her arms to his biceps, nearly pushing herself up on her toes, “and strong too.”  
Then she’s letting him go and grabs her purse, turning on her heal towards his door. 

When she opens the door to step out, she stops and turns her head to him, “You have nice place, Father Scott, but very bare. I will help you to decorate, do not worry.”

With that, she leaves and Jason is left standing where she left him, mouth open and face red in embarrassment. But also light in a way that feels new and unsettling at the same time, however fleeting he thinks it will be.

**

“Your mom showed up at my door a few minutes ago.” Jason texts Zack.

The response is almost immediate, “What happened?!”

“She wants to decorate my house.”

“What?”

“I think maybe she’ll tell you later.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m not sure.” He texts again before Zack can respond, “I’m going to speak to Father Schiff. I promise I’ll talk to you later to tell you what happens.”

He watches as an ellipsis appears and disappears on his screen numerous times, before a message comes through, “Okay.”

**

Jason is apprehensive as he steps into the Church. It almost feels unfamiliar to him right now as he walks past the empty pews. He’s going to miss it.

When he looks down at the time, he almost wants to laugh at himself. It feels like a great irony that he’s come to speak to Father Schiff at the moment that he’s holding confession. 

He contemplates waiting until he steps out, but then steels his nerves and decides he’s waited long enough with this secret. 

When he steps inside the confessional, he feels those nerves waver, but he keeps his shaking body as still as he can when the grate opens.

“Welcome, my child, when you are ready.”

Jason takes a deep breath, let’s it out slowly, “Forgive me Father for I have sinned…”

He hears the moment Father Schiff recognizes his voice, “Is—”

“Yes,” Jason says, cutting him off. “It’s who you think it is.”

“Wh—Father Scott, what are you doing here?”

“There’s something I must confess and I cannot, in good conscious, allow myself to keep it hidden for another minute longer. Not anymore. Father, I…have been living in mortal sin.”

He hears an intake of breath, “I don’t—I don’t understand.”

Jason pinches his eyes closed, takes a deep breath, knows he has to say it all now or he’ll never be able to, “I have been celebrating the sacraments of our Lord while in an intimate relationship with someone. A man.”  
His face feels aflame as he waits. 

Jason worries his lip when he’s unable to even hear Father Schiff breathing. He wonders again whether he shouldn’t have just chosen to wait for Father Schiff instead of sitting here in this too small space that feels even smaller now, “Father?”

“I’m sure you are well aware that it is a sacrilege to consciously celebrate Mass while in a state of moral sin without confession.”

“I do.”

“And yet you still went forward with it. May I ask why?”

Jason swallows against the lump in his throat, “Because I was selfish and fearful, Father. I convinced myself that I should perform my duties for those who trusted me, but I also feared the loss of that trust.”

“And your fidelity and devotion to our God was also not enough to break you from your sin?”

Jason tilts his head down, hands grasped tightly together, “I’m afraid it wasn’t, Father. I—“ he exhales, “The truth is, I didn't allow myself to understand that I couldn’t stop seeing him—even though shame and guilt plagued me—because I...love him. A realization, I'm sorry to say, I didn’t come to until just a short while ago, Father.”

“And what made you come to this realization?”

“His uh…his mother found out and came to talk to me. She...I suppose she saw it in me first.”

Father Schiff hesitates, falters, “His _mother_?”

“Mrs. Taylor.” Jason confides, voice low.

A beat passes, then a sigh, “I see. And is she also the reason you’ve come to confess now?”

“She is, her words that I felt unworthy of receiving spurred me into action.”

“And these words, what were they?”

“Despite this terrible and hurtful secret, she continues to have faith in me,” he manages, feels his throat threatening to close.

“And what of your response to this receptive and merciful gift?”

“I told her that I couldn't take her and everyone else’s trust for granted by continuing here, that I would speak to you so you might find someone to replace me.”

Jason hears Father Schiff clear his throat then, followed by a shuffling of his seat, “And her response to such a public self-denunciation?”

Jason's voice is gruff when he responds, “That she would not allow me to leave the Church. She uh, became offended that I suggested it.”

Jason is surprised when he hears the huff of a laugh through the screen, “Mrs. Taylor has always shown a tenacious spirit—particularly in the face of situations of opposing beliefs and causes from her own.”

Jason finds himself smiling, if not a little sadly, “Yes, she has.”

He hears a long sigh after a few seconds of silence, “Tell me, is being excommunicated from the Church what you want?”

With a shake of his head, Jason replies, “No, it isn’t. It’s not what I want, but it is the least of what I deserve.”

“So then, you believe you would not able to perform sacramental duties because of your relationship?”

Jason turns his head, a bit, somewhat confused and frustrated, “Well, yes. Is it not a sin? It would mean a graceless act, how can one be assured the sacrament is viable if the one performing them is in a state of sin?”

Father Schiff hums noncommittally, “You have given me much to think about, Father Scott, but I’m afraid I cannot provide you with a decision of your fate at this moment. I need time to think on this, which I'm sure you understand given how sudden this is. I will, however, allow you to perform an act of contrition—perhaps an act of perfect contrition?”

Jason furrows his brows, feeling a little exacerbated and confused. A part of him wants Father Schiff to be angry with him, and maybe he is but isn't letting Jason see or hear the anger. This reaction though, it's tormenting in its own way and Jason thinks it's probably the point Father Schiff wants to make. 

He wants to speak with Father Schiff further, but also does not want to question or disobey the request, “I thank you, Father and yes, if I may I would…" He scrambles his mind past his thoughts for the right prayer, "O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of Heaven and the pains of Hell, but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, Who art all-good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace to confess my sins, to do penance and amend my life. Amen.”

“Amen.” Father Schiff repeats. “I know you well enough to be assured that you shall pray further as you await my decision, Father Scott. So I will allow you to take your leave for the day and I will manage the duties that typically befall you tomorrow and Thursday if I do not contact you before then. You will, however, hear from me before the week’s end.”

“Of course, Father. Thank you.” 

He gets no further response after that and finally let’s himself out, walking back into the nave.  
He feels disoriented, but just as before with Mrs. Taylor, he still feels lighter—especially now that he has confessed under God. 

He’ll accept whatever punishment awaits him. 

**

When Jason returns home, he calls Zack who answers by the second ring. 

He briefly explains his mother's visit, omitting the part where she fought against his stepping down from the Church and his confession of love—he doesn’t think right now is the time to say those words, not when so much negativity hangs around them. 

Zack admits that he hasn’t spoken to his mother since he got out of work, but he had just received a call before Jason’s from her to say that she would be working at Mr. Kapoor’s and he would drop her off afterwards.  
Neither one dares to say anything more about it. The situation still feels surreal.

Then Zack listens patiently and quietly as Jason describes his having spoken to Father Schiff with as much of the conversation he feels he is allowed to mention. Jason feels himself pauses notably when his voice catches after he brings up that part about telling Father Schiff that he deserves to be excommunicated from the Church.

“Jason…” Zack calls out then, softly, sorrowful. “I never wanted you to be forced to leave the Church.”

“I never said you did. This was my decision, I knew the consequences...and if that means leaving the Church, then I just...need to accept it.”

Zack is quiet on the other line and he hears a humorless huff, “That still doesn’t—you can’t pretend this isn’t on _me_ , too." 

"Zack," Jason says, cautiously from the biting tone Zack used, "You didn't force me to do anything I didn't want."

The line goes silent for a few seconds, he hears movement, and then it sounds like Zack is pacing, "Yeah, sure, what _you_ wanted," he says, sarcastically and then pauses in a scoff, "I’ve been so selfish. I told you I understood, but I was lying. How can I feel the way I do about you and let you suffer like that?” he says then, angry.

“We’ve talked about this, Zack, don't push fault on your shoulders like that. _I chose this_. I’m the one who told Father Schiff that I wasn't fit to stay there because I…because my feelings for you are important and I'll accept whatever happens because of it.”

“No,” Zack groans in frustration, “Jason, you don’t get it. You were the one who tried to stop this before it got further and I…I pushed back every step of the way and now I can’t just let you hurt everyone else just because _I’ve_ been afraid of being hurt.” 

"That's not what any of this means." He finds his voice sounding a little desperate now, hating the way that Zack sounds like he's trying to punish himself, "I care about _you_ , Zack. That's what matters."

Zack takes a deep breath then, and Jason can make out the sound of him swallowing a noise down, forcibly. When he speaks again, his words sound muffled as if he has his hand over his mouth, “I’ll speak to Father Schiff tomorrow and explain that now that you’ve confessed, we’ve talked and you are going to rededicate your full attention to the Church and me and my mom; or, _I_ will start going to Sunday morning Mass instead and things will just…things will go back to how they should be.”

“Zack, stop, you asked me once if that’s what I wanted and I told you it wasn’t. I believe it now more than ever that I _don’t want_ that.”

“What if it’s what _I_ want?”

“…What?” Jason breathes. 

“Earlier when you told me what my mom said, I just...I felt happy in that way that the selfish part of me always does, but Jason, hearing how it hurts you to think about leaving the Church...I just can't do this to you." He pauses again, takes a shaky breath, "I want you to stay at the Church and I want to one day forget that I did this to you and…" Jason hears a sniffle on the other end of the line and his heart races, "for that to happen, it means we’re going to have to say goodbye, Jason.”

Jason feels his face fall, heart in his throat, “You don’t mean that.”

Zack laughs once without humor, “Maybe,” he concedes, “but I will some day, just like you will.” 

Jason's nose prickles and the pounding of his heart feels like its traveled to his ears when he shakily speaks again, "Zack. You're upset about this, I get it, but you're being impulsive here and aren't thinking clearly about what you're saying. Just listen to me—“

“I'm sorry, Jason.”

“Zack, wait!” Jason shouts, standing from his seat. 

He’s met with silence on the other line. 

When he looks down at his phone, he sees the call has ended. He shakes his head, jams his finger down to call Zack back. It rings. And rings. He reaches Zack’s voicemail. 

He does it again.

Rings, and then reaches voicemail.

He sends a text message begging Zack to answer his phone.

No reply. 

One last try to call, but this time it sends him straight to voicemail. 

He’s startled by the broken cry that shoots up from his throat as he drops back down on his couch, phone discarded on the ground as he buries his face in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wish i could have commemorated my google search history while i wrote this fic.

Jason is unable to sleep that night. By the time the streets outside are quiet and dark, Jason finds himself sitting in his truck. 

He’s left Zack three voicemails but hasn’t gotten a response to any of them. 

At this point, he finds himself dialing Zack’s number more just to hear his voice telling him to leave a message, than any real expectations that he’ll answer. 

After several minutes, he steps out of the driver’s seat, opens his gate, and then drives his truck out for the first time in months. 

The rumble of the engine that vibrates through his body is a familiar one and he swallows against a lump in his throat knowing that it was Zack who gifted him the chance to feel it again. 

He drives out into the empty streets, no destination in mind, just wants to drive around for a little while. 

The last time he had driven in the truck had been when he arrived to this town. He knew his life would change the moment he started this new life here, but he never would have expected it to have been in this way. 

Having been alone with this thoughts, Jason can say without any hesitation that he doesn't regret everything that has happened since his time here. He does regret how they unfolded, but not what they meant for him—what Zack means to him. 

As Jason drives, he thinks about stopping by Zack’s place in the morning, then remembers he’ll be working. He doesn’t think Zack would appreciate him showing up at his job. Or maybe he'll be at the Church. 

He’s not sure if he can stop Zack from speaking to Father Schiff. 

Jason turns onto an empty city park.  
He steps out of his truck after he parks, walks down into the playground to the empty swing set, the mulch crunching underneath his feet as he makes his way there, thoughts quiet. 

He sits on the molded rubber, hands on the plastic-protected chains on either side and sighs. It's calm out and Jason imagines all the families, friends, and lovers sitting in their homes, enjoying the end of another day that maybe doesn't hold much meaning. 

To them, it was just another Monday, but for Jason, it felt like a lifetime of heartache rolled into just a few hours. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s sitting there, but he’s startled when he makes out the sound of someone panting in a run near him. When he turns around, he’s surprised to see Ms. Rodham making her way to him, “Martha?” he asks.

“Why, Father Scott, never expected to see you here.”

He look downs at his feet for a second as she heaves in a steady rhythm of breath, hands fisted on her hips. She’s wearing a pair of soft pants and an oversized and well-worn sweater with Air Force wings etched onto it. 

“I could say the same of you,” he replies.

“Oh me, I’m here every other night. Habit I picked up in training and haven’t broken yet. Doctor thinks I should cut it down to once a week but then she says she can’t find anything in my health to justify it so she and I have a silent agreement to have differences in opinion.”  
She comes to sit down on the swing beside him, “Now, what’s your excuse?”

He glances at her and shakes his head, smiles sadly, “I’ll be leaving the Church soon.”

“What do you mean? Don’t like us anymore?” she asks, trying to tease him after she gets a good look at him.

“It’s not that…” he sighs, flicks his eyes to her and then tilts his head up to the sky, “I’ve done something that betrayed the trust you and others had for me. I spoke to Father Schiff about this already, I’m just waiting for him to get back to me about it.”

“Sounds serious,” she replies, breath even and quiet now.

Jason nods his head, “It is.”

“You going to tell me about it?”

Jason shrugs, closes his eyes, “You have a right to it,” he says then.

She kicks her foot against the mulch, watching the pieces scatter, “Well get on with it then, it’s just the two of us here and I doubt you can say anything that will shock me.” 

“I—“ he takes a deep breath, places his hands between his legs and looks off into the distance where he can see his parked truck. “I’ve been seeing someone for a while now...”

“Seeing as in…” she trails off and wriggles her fingers, “the special and profound sense?”

“Yes.” 

“Hmm. And this person, they know you’re a priest?”

“He does. We met because of my Church services.”

“Ah,” she says then, contemplative, “His name Zack?”

He freezes and turns his wide eyes towards her. She’s looks back at him patiently, eyes kind but guarded from what Jason imagines is years of training. 

“How did you know?”

“Oh the whole world could see the way that boy looks at you. Didn’t take long to see it in you, too.” She huffs a laugh, “You know, when I was your and Zackary’s age, I had already fought in a terrible war, almost got myself married to someone who didn’t even know an ocean separates us and Europe, and picked up a stray cat that acted more like a dog than any other cat I’ve seen or had since."  
Martha let's out a tired breath, eyes cast down to ground by her feet, "I’ve lived through civil rights movements and my share of Presidential scandals. I’m also still haunted by the ghosts of the war and the things I had to do during it.”  
She sighs, shakes her head and turns her gaze to the empty lot in front of them, “But in all that time, I never once stopped believing there are good people in the world. And you’re one of those people, Father. I think Father Schiff is a fine and good man, but there’s a reason I come to your Mass over his and that’s because you have a drive in you to do the most good even at the cost of your own well-being.”

Jason frowns after a moment, bites his lip, “The problem is that I didn’t choose others before myself this time.”

“Now don’t mince my words, boy, that’s not what I was trying to say,” she replies in reproach, forcing him to look at her, “I’m saying—and sorry for my use of words but I’ve always been a potty mouth and not even God himself hasn’t been able to clean my mouth out with soap for it—it’s about damn fucking time you let yourself having something good just for yourself.”

He swallows against the lump in his throat, eyes down-casting again, “I appreciate your words, Martha, believe me I do, but it doesn’t change the fact that I did something I shouldn’t have and betrayed everyone’s faith in me.”

“Oh for the love of—“ she crosses her arms then, “look at me for a second, Jason.” He does so, more out of surprise at her use of his first name than anything else, “This thing between you and Zack, you regret it?”

He shakes his head.

“His momma know?”

Jason nods his head.

“And what did she say to you about it?”

“She was more upset about it having been a secret. She—well, she hugged me and um...called me Zack’s boyfriend.”

Martha snorts then, loud and hard, “I bet it. Now, you’re still considered new around here so I’ll forgive you in being naïve about this, but you’d sure offend a lot of us in thinking you can tell us how we should feel about all this because I’d bet you the Congressional Gold Medal I got sitting in my drawer at home that they’d sooner eat a barrel of those burnt cookies Mr. Reid tried to bring to the fundraiser than say you betrayed them. My _God_ , how he managed to make the middle raw with butter while the rest was burnt and smelling of toothpaste that he played off as mint chocolate chips, we’ll never know.”

Jason finds himself laughing despite himself, catches Martha’s smile as she laughs along with him and shakes her head, “ _Terrible_ things. And that poor man, Mr. Kapoor, eating them just so he and Sam could keep arguing about whether Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire had better dance styles.”

They laugh together again, falling into a quiet comfort from it. 

“Now then,” she says after they've sat silently for a while, “I can’t know what Father Schiff will decide to do, but like I said, I know him to be a good man too. That's not to say his decision is based on being good or not because I know the Church has certain rules and views that I can respect, but as I mentioned, I've lived a long life and sometimes we gotta look into ourselves for guidance." She clears her throat, "Just don’t you worry about everyone else, I know how to deal with the rumor mill and the gossiping once this starts coming around.” 

Jason gives her a small smile and nod, knowing, like he does with Mrs. Taylor, that there's no point in arguing with Martha. 

She reaches her hand out to Jason’s that rests on his knee, “But I can see that’s not all that’s bothering you so come on, lay it on me.”

He stares down at her hand, has a flitting imagery of the strength that runs through it, “After I told Zack what I told Father Schiff; that I wanted him to find a replacement for me so I could leave the Church because of my feelings that conflict with my vows...Zack, he got upset and said he couldn’t let me do that, that he’d speak to Father Schiff to make things right and then he just…he said we needed to say goodbye to each other and hung up before I could stop him. Wouldn’t answer when I called anymore.”

Martha nods, squeezes Jason’s hand under her’s, “That Zack is as hardheaded as his momma. She’s a good woman who I admire greatly, and she raised a good son—don’t think I’ve ever seen a son so devoted to his mother like he is—but she passed on that fighting spirit that gets him into trouble. I’m afraid it’s not my place to talk to him about this, but we gotta trust he let’s himself have a good thing in his life like I want you to, too.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, unable to let himself say more about it when it still hurts too much to think about. 

He smiles at her after a moment, lifts his head towards her, “And you’re a good person too, Martha.”

“Oh I’m the best,” she jokes, pulling away from him to wrap her hands around the chains, “but you’re a close second. Now come on, let’s swing for a little while and I can tell you about the second man I almost married until I found out he voted for Nixon.”

**

Jason doesn’t hear from Zack on Tuesday.

On Wednesday, Jason drives out into town wearing a plain white button up and jeans. Several eyes follow him when he drives and that’s how he knows that the secret it out. He doesn’t know how the news spread, but it also doesn’t matter. 

He stops by Mr. Kapoor’s shop. 

There are a few customers inside who look at Jason, but, to his surprise, they either nod in greeting or smile at him in what he can only describe as support. 

He runs into Mr. Kapoor first. “Father Scott! What a pleasure to see you once again. Anything I can help you pick out today or are you just browsing?”

“Actually,” he glances through the store, “I wondered if it wouldn’t trouble you to let me know whether Mrs. Taylor was here.”

Mr. Kapoor’s smile reaches his eyes in warmth, “She is. We have a new tea shipment that she’s sorting through in the back,” he pauses, “why don’t you go ahead and go back in there to see her. I know she’ll be very happy to speak to you.”

Jason sends him a grateful nod, “Thank you.”

“Of course, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about those films I mentioned to you. You’ll come to find I am very persistent about these things,” he says to Jason’s retreating back in a laugh. 

When Jason steps into the backroom, he can hear the sound of muttering and a clinking of tins against a table, “Mrs. Taylor?” he calls out.

The sounds stop and then he hears a shuffling, “Father Scott?”

“Uh, yes,” he says, stepping further in, nearly running into her when she rounds a corner. 

Her eyes light up in surprise, “Father Scott, please, come,” she directs him to an upturned wooden crate as she dusts off her smock and turns another crate to sit across from him. “I am so glad to see you once again.”

“Me too, Mrs. Taylor,” he says, genuinely and then pauses, opening and closing his mouth a couple times as he fidgets, “Mrs. Taylor…has Zack…how is he?”

Her face falls a bit then, sad, “He stubborn, my Zack. When I come home to him on Monday, it hurt my heart to see him look in mourning. I try to talk to him and he not listen.” She looks at him in sympathy then, “He spoke to Father Schiff yesterday.”

“Yes, that was… that’s the last thing he told me.”

“He did not want me to go with him and I do not know of what they speak,” she says in regret.

“I understand,” he says softly.

“Please do not give up on him, Father Scott. My Zack always thinks he knows what is the right thing but he does not allow himself to choose what is best for himself when decisions conflict.”

Jason exhales a painful sound, “He won’t even talk to me anymore.”

She shakes her head, leans forward to pat his hand, “give him a little more time.” 

**

On Friday afternoon, Jason gets a call from Father Schiff who asks him to come to meet with him at the Church. He can’t settle on whether he feels relief or dread. 

Jason enters through the back entrance. He dressed in his clerical shirt, unsure if he should be allowed to, but he wore it none the less, even if for the last time. 

When he knocks outside Father Schiff’s door, it takes only a second for him to be called in. 

Father Schiff is sitting behind the desk, booklets and papers spread in front of him. When he looks up, he smiles at Jason, “Thank you for coming and please sit.”

Jason does so.

Father Schiff exhales in wait and regards Jason quietly. Even now, his eyes seem kind, “This has been quite a week, hasn’t it?” he asks then.

“It has, Father.” Jason agrees, hands on his lap.

“I’ve also had a lot of time to think, as I’m sure you have too. Before I begin, I must ask one question first.”

“Of course.”

“Have your feelings on the state of your relationship changed within the past days?”

“No, Father."

He seems pleased by the answer and Jason thinks it’s because it makes it easier for him to let him go for it. Father Schiff has always been a compassionate person and Jason knows this can’t have been easy for him. 

“I’m not sure if I should mention this, but young Mr. Taylor came to see me on Tuesday.”

Jason swallows, nods, “Father, I know I shouldn’t speak for him, but I want you to know that although it’s possible he told you his feelings for me may have changed, mine have not, so I stand by what I said to you Monday afternoon.”

“I appreciate the candor.” He sits back in his chair, the material creaking from the pressure, “You know, I’ve know the Taylors for a number of years now. In many ways, I have witnessed Zack grow into the strong and good man that he is today and I cannot imagine a mother more deserving of a son like him as Mrs. Taylor is. You could say I’ve grown protective of the people in this town, of the parish. We are a family under the eyes of the Lord and I have always hoped that they see me as someone worthy of their time and lives.”

“They do, Father,” Jason says quickly. “Every person I have met has never had anything but good things to say about you and your character.”

Father Schiff smiles then, appreciatively, “It is funny that you say that, because I could say the same of you.”

Jason shakes his head, eyes downcast, “I don’t think they would anymore.”

“In that, I’m afraid you are mistaken, Father.”

When Jason glances up again, Father Schiff is leaning forward, arms on the desk, “Under obligations of secrecy, I cannot disclose those who come to see me unless they ask to be named, but I can reveal that the amount of visitors I’ve had over the last several days has almost tripled from the average amount I get. And curiously—or perhaps not at all—every one of them came with a strong interest in speaking of or, in some cases, _for_ you.” He laughs, “A number of them were quiet a passionate sight.”

Jason swallows tightly, bites his tongue as he tries to steady the thrum of emotions in hearing that, “They are kind and deserving people,” he manages. 

“But you don’t believe _you_ are?”

“I have been learning that I cannot judge myself freely,” Jason says then, “but I also know that I do not have the righteousness needed to perform sacraments or celebrations of the Eucharist.”

Father Schiff hums, “I assume you are familiar with the Catechism of the Catholic Church?”

“I—yes, not fully by memory, but yes.”

“Then you would not be able to tell me paragraph 1128 in the article of Church sacraments?”

“Not off the top of my head, no Father.”

“I can.” He leans forward again, “Would you like to hear it?”

Jason nods.

“ _"The sacrament is not wrought by the righteousness of either the celebrant or the recipient, but by the power of of God." From the moment that a sacrament is celebrated in accordance with the intention of the Church, the power of Christ and his Spirit acts in and through it, independently of the personal holiness of the minister._ ”

Jason doesn’t say anything, but Father Schiff continues anyway, “You know, I’ve worked here for over 20 years now. In all that time, I can honestly say I never imagined being in a situation like the one I’m in now. When you came to join us here, I like to think I took a liking to you as immediately as everyone else seems to have. You have a way of making people want to listen and follow your words, which is a hard quality to come by. I’m lucky to _only_ have a small pew’s worth of sleepers during my Mass celebrations.” He presses his hands flat on the table and exhales, "So to cut to the chase, I asked you here to give you the unfortunate news that I cannot let you resign from your position here with us.”

“I’m sorry—I…I don’t understand.”

Father Schiff lifts his hands in a helpless gesture, “For days I prayed for God’s guidance, and for days He brought me messages and signs that allowed me to follow the path I saw fit.”

“But—“ Jason nearly slips off his chair, “But Father, no one can change the fact that I still hold feelings for someone in a way that strays my sole devotion to God.”

“Has your belief in God and His overt teachings wavered?”

“No.”

“Have you forlorn your duties of prayers?”

“No.”

“And do you still wish to serve under God?”

“Yes.”

Father Schiff gestures helplessly again, “I’m not sure what more I can ask of you.”

“But…I wouldn’t deny the feelings I have for Zack or my expression of that... _love_.”

“In that, I’m afraid I do not feel at liberty to comment too fully on. We know where the Church stands in this regard as well as of many of our Brothers _and_ Sisters. I adhere to these rules as I best see fit and heed the teachings.” He rests his chin on his palm in thought, “But I also have found my feelings a little on the unconventional side through the years that others wouldn't fully agree with, not even our generous Pope; however, that is all I can say on the matter." He sighs with a slight shake of his head, "I believe your personal affects and how you express them are something for you to ponder in your prayers for guidance, not for me. As we were reminded, the Catechism proclaims that the sacraments act _'ex opera operato_ , or by the fact of the actions performed, though Christ’s virtue, not _the celebrants’_.”

Jason stares down at his hands, unable to say anything else. A minute of silence passes and then he glances up, “Forgive me, Father, I’m having a difficult time knowing what to do or say.”

“This is a rather…unorthodox situation we’re in,” Father Schiff agrees, "I did not come to this decision lightly and I admit that had I not taken these past few days as seriously as I did, the outcome may not have been the same." He presses his lips together tightly for a moment and looks to Jason before releasing a thoughtful hum, “If I may be so blunt, I should also confess something to you.”

Jason waits for him to continue with a small nod.

“Most are not without sin. Even I often find myself committing venial sins—most of these happen during cup tournaments involving the soccer club I support—but," he chuckles lightly, "I have always strongly believed that not every sin is a reflection of one’s character. Some make us human. That isn’t to say I don’t pray for mercy on my lapses, and we shouldn’t all strive to be free of sin, but we should acknowledge that in the end, it is God who will ultimately judge us.” He nods to himself then, "That's really the extent to which I feel at liberty to comment on."

He shuffles the spread of papers on the desk then, “Now, is there anything else you would like to add or ask?”

Mind still blank, Jason shakes his head and then stops, “Actually," he drops his hands on his lap, helplessly, slightly dazed, "I should thank you...for everything? I can't help feeling like you've done far more for me since I've met you than I could ever think to repay.”

“I did not say or do anything without my complete and full belief behind it. If anything, I should thank _you_ for touching the lives of so many people and it is with great hope that you continue to do so. I also wish and pray for your happiness, Father Scott, however or with whomever that is.”

He echoes Jason’s smile back to him and Jason can’t help being affected by the sincerity in Father Schiff’s eyes. He stands from his seat then, carefully, “Thank you, Father. I hope and pray for the same to you.”

“Pray that my team wins the Champions League title. That would bring me great joy, let me tell you.”

It startles a laugh out of Jason and he nods, seriously, “Of course. A day won’t pass where I don’t add that to my prayers.”

He turns to the door and opens it.

“Oh, Father Scott?”

Jason turns his head to Father Schiff, “Yes?”

“I want to remind you of an important verse,” at Jason’s attention, he continues, “ _'_ Verily I say to you, that _all_ sins shall be forgiven unto the sons of men, and the blasphemies wherewith they shall blaspheme. _'_ ” He pauses and looks at Jason briefly before he smiles, “While I executed your weekly duties this week, I expect and hope that you will recommence your role tomorrow for evening Mass.”

“Thank you,” Jason says as sincerely as he hopes he can one last time with a nod, and walks out. 

** 

When Jason steps into his truck, he let’s out a shuddering breath. He feels exhausted. But more than that, he feels a happiness that he tells himself he cannot and will never take for granted. 

What Father Schiff did for him can never be fully repaid and he knows the risk that he has played himself into by letting Jason stay despite everything. He also can’t imagine working hard enough to be worthy of all those who came to speak on his behalf. 

And then he thinks of Zack. 

He starts his truck and drives.

** 

Jason’s heart beats rapidly in excitement and apprehension when he sees Zack’s car parked outside his home. Now he just hopes he’ll open the door.

He parks his truck and steps out. 

As he’s making his way over, he hears the sound of a child laughing. He turns his head across from the Taylors’ place and finds Mrs. Munroe smiling down at her daughter Lita as she bounces in a baby walker. 

Mrs. Munroe looks up then, eyes wide when she sees Jason.  
“Father Scott! Please wait…” Mrs. Munroe hands Lita a small toy for distraction and sprints across the street to Jason, baby blanket slung over her shoulder and bottle in hand. 

“Good evening,” Jason tells her when she reaches him. 

“Good evening,” she repeats, voice torn and face distressed. “Father, I’m so sorry about everything. It’s all my fault. I never meant to hurt you or Zack. I wish I could go back and change what I did.”

“Mrs. Munroe,” Jason says, cutting her off. He places a hand on her shoulder opposite the one with the blanket, and smiles softly at her, “Please don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. You helped me come to terms with a secret that shouldn’t have been one in the first place.”

She shakes her head, “No, but it wasn't my secret to tell. I—I spoke to Father Schiff. I told him that you did nothing wrong, that I didn’t…it wouldn’t and doesn’t make a difference to me—your relationship.”

Jason levels her with his smile, “Thank you, Mrs. Munroe. I actually just came from speaking to Father Schiff. Please don’t blame yourself for anything because there isn't a reason for it.”

“But what...” she glances back at Lita and turns around again when she sees her in the same spot she left her, “did Father Schiff try to…are you...I mean, I can speak to him again if I need to.”

He laughs, “No, Mrs. Munroe, that really won’t be necessary.” 

At her expectant look, Jason sighs, glances over to Zack’s place and wonders if he already heard him outside, “Listen,” he says, turning back to her and squeezes her shoulder, “How about we talk more tomorrow, if you want.”

“Tomorrow?”

“For Mass. I hope you’ll still consider coming?”

“Are you?” she trails off.

He nods, “Just like every other Saturday.”

“Yes, of course I’ll be there. The whole Munroe clan in our usual spot,” she replies, a little dazed, but grateful.

“Thank you,” he says then, with as much conviction as he can, before dropping his hand as he looks over her shoulder, “She sure seems to be growing fast.”

She turns to look at Lita with him, “Before you know it, she’ll be having her first communion,” she glances at Jason, “I hope you’ll be willing to pencil us in when the time comes.”

“It’d be an honor.”

He watches as her shoulders relax and then she’s lifting the bottle in her hand, “I’d better get this to her before she realizes I took it.” She seems like she wants to say more, but at Jason's nod, she crosses the street instead. 

He waves when she lifts Lita up on her shoulder and takes her arm to wave at Jason from across the way before they both disappear through their door. 

Jason takes a deep breath and turns back around, continues his way to Zack’s door. 

He stands quiet, tries to make out any noise inside and thinks he can hear the sound of dishes clinking together. 

He knocks. 

It takes several seconds before the door opens and Mrs. Taylor sees him. She raises her index finger to her mouth, indicating that he not say anything and then steps back, eyes bright even if a little worried and let’s Jason step inside. 

She closes the door after him and then Jason hears the sound of the kitchen faucet running and the sound of dishes that he heard. 

Mrs. Taylor waves him in to follow her after he carefully slips off his shoes, finger still on her lips. 

She stops by the hallway, points at herself and then to a door in the hall. She points to Jason and then points towards the kitchen. 

When she makes sure Jason understands, she turns around and walks to the hall, enters through a door, and then closes it silently.

Jason feels nervous just standing there, a tension thrumming under his skin, and then he’s following the sound into the kitchen.

Zack’s back is to him. He’s barefoot, wearing a soft looking black cotton t-shirt and gray gym pants. 

Just the sight of him makes Jason ache.

He says something in Mandarin that sounds like a question without turning around. When he doesn’t get an answer, he turns his head and then gasps in suprise. He quickly turns back around, shuts the water off and wipes his hands before he manages to face Jason, back against the kitchen counter. 

“Ja—Father Scott.”

Jason feels compelled to step forward then, “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“You won’t answer my calls.” He stops when he stands a few steps away from Zack, sees the tension rigid on his body. 

“We agreed that—“

“ _I_ didn’t agree to anything,” Jason interrupts, lightly. 

Zack shakes his head, “It’s doesn’t matter.”

“It does to _me_ ,” Jason takes another step forward, sees the way it makes Zack clench his hand against the counter behind him, “I just spoke to Father Schiff.”

“What…what did he say?”

Jason shrugs gingerly, “Before I left his office, he wanted to make sure I was ready to conduct Mass tomorrow evening.”

Zack smiles then, but it looks sad and it doesn’t reach his eyes, “So it worked. I mean, he agreed to have you stay.” He nods his head, “good,” he licks his lips, blinks and looks away to the kitchen walls, “I’m glad. It’s uh…I hope it goes well.”

“Aren’t you going to go?”

Zack looks at him, then glances away, shakes his head, “I’m switching to Sunday, remember?” He huffs a forced laugh, “bright and early.”

Jason steps closer to him until he's close enough to touch him. 

“Please come tomorrow,” Jason says and then he’s reaching across with his hand, feels Zack’s skin shiver when he touches his arm, “I need you there.”

“Jason,” he clenches his eyes shut, “Stop. It’ll ruin everything if you don’t.”

Jason raises his other hand, palms the side of Zack’s face and closes the rest of the distance between them, “Look at me,” he whispers. 

Zack shakes his head. 

“Zack, please.” He sighs when Zack holds his position and then softly speaks again, “I told Father Schiff that I loved you.”

Zack startles then, eyes opening wide, “What?”

Jason takes advantage of that by bringing his other hand to hold Zack’s face between his palms, “I told him that I _loved you_ , Zack. I made sure he understood that no matter what he decided, it wouldn’t make me change my feelings for you or stop me from wanting to be with you.”

Zack swallows, licks his lips and this time Jason’s eyes follow the movement before locking eyes with Zack’s again, “What did he say?”

“He wasn’t going to ask me to change what I feel for you.”

“He said that?”

“Not his exact words, but it’s what he meant.”

“But,” he furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “you’re going to stay at the Church?”

Jason nods.

“And what about…us?”

Jason carefully leans his head forward against Zack’s, digs the fingers of one hand in the hair behind Zack’s ear while the other comes to rest over Zack's heart like he would do with him, “I want us to _be_ an us." He licks his lips, catches the way it makes Zack swallow, "I want to be able to kiss you again like I’ve been wanting to do since the last time I saw you. Maybe wake up with you beside me and learn every little thing that makes you happy.” He looks at Zack, sees his eyes are closed, and feels the wild thrum of his heart underneath his palm, “Will you let me?”

“Which part?” Zack whispers. He’s shaking and Jason thinks he might be too.

“All of it.”

He shudders when Zack reaches up to shape Jason’s face with his fingers. 

Zack’s nod is so small that if they weren’t this close, Jason wouldn’t have felt it. But the moment he does, he leans forward, pressing his lips against Zack’s. 

It feels like everything from the past week rolled into a single kiss. A low whine bursts from one of their throats. Jason doesn’t care who it was, but it spurs him on to press impossibly closer to Zack. 

Then he does hear himself let out a faltering and quiet moan when Zack’s hands wind completely around Jason then, nails digging into his back. One hand wraps around the back of Jason’s shirt collar and he has a second to think about the fact that this is the first time they’ve kissed while he was wearing the collar, but he pushes it away when Zack’s mouth opens against his. 

The touch moves through Jason like electricity and he has to pull away soon or else he’ll run out of breath, but he’s reluctant to let Zack go. 

It’s Zack, then, who begins to pull away first. Jason recaptures his mouth a second after and he only protests once when Zack pulls away the second time. 

Zack whispers his name and Jason revels in hearing him say his name again. Zack fits his face against Jason’s neck then, arms coming together on his back in a hug.  
Jason does the same with Zack, buries his face against his neck, presses a warm and soft kiss to his pulse point that makes Zack quiver and wrap his arms more securely. 

Jason doesn’t know how long they stand there, arms wrapped around each other in the kitchen, breathing in one another’s comforting scent, but after a while, he hears and feels Zack stir against him, “Jason?” he asks, voice muffled.

“Hmm?”

“Will you stay here for the night? Just to sleep. I—want to wake up and not have to wonder whether this was all a dream.”

“I’ll stay as long as you want me.”

They stand there for another minute before Zack pulls away and takes Jason’s hand, turning off the lights as he leads him down the hall. They pass by the door Mrs. Taylor had disappeared into before and Jason bites his tongue in surprise when he hears a snore from within.

“She’d never believe you if you told her she snores,” Zack whispers around a smile.

When they enter through another door across from her’s, it’s dark and Zack navigates them in until Jason feels him sit down before he tugs at Jason’s hand. Jason manages to feel out the mattress with his hand and it creaks from their weight. Zack shuffles up the bed, Jason following beside him. 

The bed is smaller than Jason’s. Their shoulders are pressed together with them on their backs and Jason’s free hand dangles off the bed. 

He turns to his side and can make out Zack doing the same until they're facing each other. 

His sight has adjusted to the darkness and the moonlight streaming in from the open drapes of a window. They both lie quietly together, letting the calmness around them seep in a way that neither has been able to for a number of days now. 

Jason can see that Zack’s walls are filled with frames and other things that he hopes to one day memorize and he bites his tongue, overwhelmed with the idea that he might actually have a chance to do so.

Jason turns back to look at Zack when he feels his fingers on the concealed buttons of his clerical shirt. He doesn’t say anything as Zack pops each button, one by one, until he reaches the end. 

Zack hesitates when he touches the collar.  
Jason reaches up to wrap his hand around Zack’s, guiding his fingers to pull the collar out. And then Zack turns around, collar in hand as he sets it down carefully at a table behind him. 

When he returns, he tugs the shirt off Jason’s shoulder and he let’s him, lifts his body enough for Zack to pull it away, leaving him in his sleeveless undershirt. 

Zack’s fingers skate down Jason’s chest slowly then until they reach the waistband of his trousers.

And then his knuckles are pressing against the end of Jason's undershirt as he works the button open, fingers slowly moving to pull his zipper down in a way that leaves Jason’s throat and mouth dry. 

Jason lifts himself again when Zack uses both his hands to draw the trousers down, letting Jason kick them off when he’s able to. 

When Jason lies back down, Zack palms his bare neck and leans forward, pressing a soft kiss against his lips that Jason returns. 

When they pull back, Zack looks at him for a moment, "Do you really love me?" he whispers. His eyes look bright, but apprehensive. 

Jason moves his hand to Zack's hip where his shirt has ridden up and presses his thumb against the exposed and warm skin there while his other hand moves to rest under his head on his pillow. He lets his thumb skate back and forth and then he swallows, eyes on Zack, "I do."

Zack doesn't say anything, lets his own thumb at the hinge of Jason's jaw mirror his movement. After another few seconds of silence, Zack licks his lips, "What would you have done if you had to leave the Church?"

Jason's thumb stills, "I don't know." He lifts his shoulder in a small shrug, and jokes lightly, "Maybe I'd see if Mr. Kapoor needed another hand."

Zack doesn't smile though and Jason almost wishes he could take it back, but then Zack moves forward to capture his lips again.  
It's warm and wet when Jason opens his mouth against his, but it's also careful and slow to the point where Jason almost isn't sure where Zack ends and he begins. It somehow feels more intimate than any other kiss they've ever had.

When they pull away this time, Zack sets his other hand under his head, too and sighs, eyes searching Jason's for a second, "I think I might too, by the way."

"What?"

"Love you."

Jason opens his mouth, feels a lightness pass through his body that's like nothing he's felt before, and watches Zack's slow smile when Jason chokes over the loud but quick joyful laugh that tumbles through his body.

"You're a sap, you know?" Zack says then, teasing.

"But you still love me," Jason says past his grin.

"I said I thought I might, not that I was sure."

Jason's grin widens, "Okay."

With a small huff, Zack shakes his head and let's Jason kiss him until his smile is as big as Jason's.

Then Zack lets his hand travel down to rest over Jason's chest, comfortable.  
“Goodnight, Jason," he says once he leans back a fraction.

“Goodnight,” Jason says against his lips, and watches Zack until they both close their eyes against the muffled sounds of Mrs. Taylor's snores across the hall. 

** 

For the second time in his life, Jason wakes up to the pressure of lips against his own, and he smiles. 

When he opens his eyes, Zack is staring down at him, the smirk that Jason has come to love, stretched across his mouth, “Morning.” 

“Good morning.” Jason replies, blinking in his surroundings.

“Mom said to come have breakfast.”

Jason hesitates then and looks down at himself quickly, realizes what he’s wearing—or what he isn’t wearing, “Um, did see…”

Zack chuckles, “Probably.” He stands, stretches, and Jason’s eyes gravitate to the line of skin he sees under the lift of his shirt. 

“Come on,” Zack says, eyes bright, “if you don’t go over there in the next five minutes she’s likely to come in and drag you to eat, herself.”

Jason swings his legs over the bed, hearing Zack’s snort as he walks out the door and tells him where the bathroom is. 

*

When Jason walks into the kitchen, clerical shirt and trousers back on, he finds Mrs. Taylor plating scrambled eggs and bacon on the table.  
“Um, good morning, Mrs. Taylor.”

“Morning, Father Scott, please sit and eat. Would you like orange juice or coffee?”

He sits down in the chair he sat in the last time he was here and looks over at Zack who spoons eggs onto another plate, “Whatever you’re having is fine.” 

She nods and pours him a glass of orange juice. 

They join him at the table a minute later and wait for Jason to say grace and then begin eating, both Zack and Jason stealing glances at each other. 

* 

When they have finished their meal, Mrs. Taylor turns expectantly to Jason, “My Zack tell me you will perform Mass today.”

Jason nods, “I will.”

She smiles, an edge of smugness that reminds Jason of another quality she passed onto Zack, “Did I not tell you I will not allow you to leave Church?” 

Zack laughs from across Jason, “Lesson number one you should know is to never bet against my mom, Jason.” 

“Well, I’m looking forward to learning about all the other lessons.”

“Handsome, strong, and now also smart,” Mrs. Taylor concludes, patting Jason’s hand. 

*

Before Jason leaves back to his house, Mrs. Taylor gives Jason and Zack some privacy under the pretense of saying she needs to rest her body for a few minutes. 

Jason thanks her for her hospitality, accepting the hug she gives him after she says she will be looking forward to Mass later in the day. 

Now Jason stands by their front door with Zack like he did the last time he was here. This time he doesn't feel an impulse to check down the hall to make sure they're alone when he takes Zack's hand in his. "You'll be there later too, right?"

Zack threads their fingers together, "Why, gonna make me worth my while?"

Jason laughs, looks down at their hands and shrugs, "I'm willing to hear any suggestions."

"In _that_ case," Zack grins as he steps forward and presses a kiss to Jason's cheek, "I wouldn't miss it." He looks at Jason, contemplatively, "Are you going to be all right with it? I mean, do you think you're ready to see everyone now that...you know."

Jason looks up, squeezes Zack's hand in his, "Yeah. I'm ready for it," and then thinks about how this is going to affect Zack too, "what about you?"

Zack snorts, "Are you kidding me? I'm going to be having the time of my life lapping up all the envy from everyone knowing I bagged the guy everyone fawns over."

"You know, too much vanity and pride is generally looked down upon," Jason teases.

"Well, looks like I got a little something extra to confess later, don't I?"

"I guess we both do," Jason says then, happy. 

** 

5:30 PM.

Jason looks out to the familiar faces looking up at him. While he can see at least a small few notable empty space among the pews, everyone else sits patiently.

He catches the eye of Mr. and Mrs. Nylund up front and hesitantly returns the warm smiles they send him.

His eyes then move over the others, one-by-one, each one giving him what he can only describe as reassuring looks of encouragement—even if a couple seem a little uncomfortable at first. When he finally moves over to Zack, he feels grounded by the familiar warmth that radiates through his body from those eyes.

“Quit mooning over your pretty boy boyfriend already and let’s get this party started!” 

Surprised, Jason looks over to where Martha has dropped her coat on the seat beside her casually. She looks up at Jason, a smirk on her lips as she takes in the looks around her, “What? I got a TV episode sitting on my DVR I mean to watch before bed tonight.”  
A beat passes before chuckles and a snort of laughter rings around the nave. 

Jason can’t help joining in.

“All right, all right,” he says, with a smile as the room quiet downs, “I apologize, Martha. I am sure God would like nothing more than to make sure you get to that as promptly as possible.” 

He takes a deep breath, feels lighter than he did a minute ago and he silently sends a thanks to Martha from his place, which she accepts with a nod and wink. 

“Good evening, everyone,” he says then and swallows down the prickle in his throat when everyone replies back with the same. 

He feels more exposed than he’s ever felt, standing here in front of everyone. He knows nothing is fixed—he remembers once thinking that what he and Zack have can only be soothed, not erased, and it's mostly true. 

What Father Schiff is allowing Jason to do here and what all those in attendance are turning a blind eye to while they each come to confess sins far less damning than Jason’s—it’s near impossible for him to not feel a weight of guilt. But that guilt comes from a place of appreciation and cherished devotion rather than one of shame or fear, and it's enough.

There might be a day when other voices overpower those here and Jason won’t fight it and he’ll ask others not to, either. 

Every event in his life has led him to trying to search for all the right choices—find his place. He has that here and now he _wants_. Wants to let himself live in it for as long as he’s able to and for as long he's allowed to because everything that he's done and everything that will happen is worth it as long as he gets to envelope himself in the affection of those he loves.

With one last warm glance to Zack, Jason begins Mass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~started cold, ended warm.  
> one thing you have now learned about me is that i am incapable of letting a sad ending happen and will bend over backwards to make sure of it. i’m too much of a bleeding heart for that even tho i love me some angst. 
> 
> SO, that’s the end. I hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading through this story that essentially showed up at my door, uninvited, and became this longwinded thing.


End file.
